


What you owe...

by pentuppen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, Artistic liberties taken with characters motivations, Eventual smut....eventually, F/M, Flashbacks, Kissing, Sexual Content, mild blood play, suicide-by-wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentuppen/pseuds/pentuppen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three years since the Inquisition learned who he was and so far their efforts against him have failed spectacularly. No longer touched by anything but his sole remaining purpose, Solas has become colder than ever before, which is of course the perfect time for Lavellan to make an appearance with a demand that slaps the ice out of the Dread Wolf's veins. </p><p>Were she there to kill him this might have been a very short story.</p><p>This was supposed to be a one shot designed to dislodge two years worth of writers block, it has mutated into something that will require more chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> First of all i urge that you be kind. I have been wrestling with the brood-mommy of writers blocks for the last two years and this fic is literally my version of dipping my toe in the water. As such i have taken certain liberties in being vague about the characters location and have basically edged around the line of continuity.
> 
> This story has been bouncing around in my head ever since my last play through of Inquisition, my second play through for a Solas romance. I was rather sick of my poor inquisitor looking like someone had just kicked her in her 'special place' every time Solas walked away from her, and so i began to think exactly how i would want to end the story.
> 
> This is literally a piece of self indulgent smut that turned out to have quite a bit of plot in the end, to the point where i haven't gotten around to writing the actual smut part yet.
> 
> That being said, i do hope you enjoy.

** What You Owe **

“It was cruel of you to seek me in my dreams”

Her voice was a perfect calm, soft as the first dawn cloud unfurling, each word carefully measured as though they would spill from an overflowing cup should she rush them. That same voice slid through his heavily guarded defences like hot steel through ice, bypassing any resistance that might allow him the few precious seconds it would have taken to pull back the intake of breath she steals from him. His mind had been honed to a sharp arrow point only moments before, focused only upon removing the intruder that had found their way into his sanctuary, the concept neither disturbing nor rousing, merely a bland factor that needed removal before it became anywhere close to becoming a true threat. Dispassionate didn’t even come close to how he had become now, the closer he had come to realising his task the more he had closed down such unnecessary emotions like guilt and fear, neither of which served much of a purpose now. His mind had been prepared, much of his emotion carefully deconstructed to allow him to do what needed to be done, even if that meant removing another piece from the chessboard he was soon to overturn completely.That carefully constructed state of calm assurance was not prepared for seeing her again, and what parts of his demeanour she did not successfully shatter upon his first seeing her, she now blew away like dust in the wake of her voice. 

Though he knew he deserved little mercy these days he was afforded a small one now in the fact that her back was turned to him, her face tilted to stare up into the almost disapproving gaze of the stone wolf atop the large, square pedestal in the pool before her. An overgrowth of ivy hid most of the statue’s expression, but she seemed to find something to contemplate in one of those unblinking eyes for she didn’t turn to look at him, In fact the slight tense set of her shoulders told him she was restraining herself from doing so. That he still knew such a detailed expression of her body surprised him further, after three years he should have forgotten so small a thing. Yet he doesn’t have to look much more closely to note that he could still read her body well enough to know that as tight a grip as she might have on that careful calm she now wore, it was forced. Somehow this small flaw made it easier to slide his own version of a stone mask in place, even if doing so did cause a pang to his recently ill used conscience.

His stance upon reaching the bottom of the crumbling staircase had been poised for immediate confrontation, not even his agents should have known he was here, so the presence of another called only for immediate and likely terminal action on his part. However the sight of her seemed to shut down every part of the instincts that allowed him to harm another, as if every cell contributing to such an action protested at once, the swell of power in his hands now cooling and collapsing in on itself as he straightened up and allowed the tip of his staff to rest upon the floor. 

There was no expectancy in the long silence that unravelled between them, it was a silence that would go on for as long as it needed to as they both submerged themselves in the sensation of being near one another again, an almost palpable merging of spaces that touched cautiously upon each other even across the physical distance currently between them. She had never been able to occupy his space unobtrusively, her presence had always been a faraway song that had struck a beautiful but discordant note amidst the comforting drone of his anonymity, reaching him even in the deepest of his meditations, calling his attention to her without her ever having to try. It had been those unconscious distractions to his own familiar calm that had first caused him to warn himself that he should tread very carefully with the fascinating creature.

“I never imagined you would be able to sense my presence” 

He didn’t flinch at the sound of his own voice but part of him wanted to, the tone cold enough to bite and the slow curling of fingers around the staff held loosely at her side told him she had felt the sting well enough. The bitter cocktail of both regret and satisfaction lined his throat now, a few more emotions that had been left to gather dust in distant vaults he had placed in his own mind, never to be truly forgotten but deemed useless to him then. That they should find him so easily, such recently impotent emotions that both mourned the pain he caused her and revelled in rippling the waters of her facade, caused the thinnest of cracks in his confidence when it came to dealing with this unexpected visit. That she should find him at all, merely proved how dangerous she truly was to him. 

“While i think i can deal with your voice having about as much warmth as a thrown brick i would really rather you not pretend I’m still naive when it comes to you Solas. You knew, you always slipped away before i could so much as reach out to you”

That she had caught him in a lie did not seem to bother him as much as it should have, her tone and lack of deference towards him did catch him off guard however. Having been regarded with almost overbearing respect by all that would call themselves one of his ‘agents’, her lilting but honest tone felt like a shout in a world that had only been inhabited by whispers till now. He opened his mouth to answer her and found his voice stilled while he watched her hand uncurl and slip into the recesses of her robe. The object she withdrew was a simple piece of pyrite, and yet the stone that still glimmered like a dull and tamed fire drew his attention sharply, unspoken words falling dust like on suddenly dry lips as he watched her step into the pool. A brief glimpse of one bare sole as she stepped into the clear water caused a fist to thrust its way into his gut sharply while the recollection of salt and red dirt touch lightly upon his senses like a kiss from a ghost...or a memory. He knows what she is about to do and it devastates him more than her sorrow ever could have.

……………………….

_“It is not common for anyone to leave offerings to the dread wolf, let alone a Dalish”_

_He doesn’t mean to startle her but he can see by the tensing of shoulders and the swift, bird like tilt of her head, that he has caught her unawares. She is sitting on a stump outside a run down house rumored to have been home to a healer that had not survived the first wave of the breach. It has mostly remained untouched and he can understand it’s value as a place of solitude in an unfamiliar and crowded keep. And yet he has chosen to ignore her need to be alone, driven by his own curiosity and perhaps a faint touch of arrogant ego that belonged to a much younger man._

_She lifts her head to look at him finally, her eyes wary and faintly amused at the same time, the latter an expression she seemed to reserve for him alone or so he had observed in the past few weeks. She does not seek to admonish him for disturbing her though she doesn’t answer him, her slightly slanted gaze merely holds his own in a silent and polite invitation to elaborate further on his abrupt statement and he finds himself compelled to do so._

_“The veridium you placed at the feet of the statue in Crestwood, it was an offering was it not? Would your clan approve?”_

_She makes a soft sound through her nose, not quite a laugh though her lips tilt into a more defined impression of a smile as she shakes her head indulgently, as if he were some adorable child who had just misunderstood a simple concept. This bothers him more than he would like to admit and he finds himself biting down on both his tongue and his impatience as he watched her lift her eyes to the steadily darkening sky as if searching for words. He knew she would answer him. Whether that answer was heavily veiled with humor, frustration or anger it would always be honest and therefore worth his seeking her out._

_“I highly suspect they would say nothing while giving each other ‘I told you so’ looks”_

_She lay her staff over her knees, resting forearms on the patterned ironwood as though metaphorically throwing down a gentle gauntlet. Amid all her honesty and amusement was also a defensive stance and he had to remind himself that she had no idea of his identity and she was now mentally preparing herself for a diatribe she’d had to endure from countless of her kind who might question the same action he had witnessed. That he was not Dalish seems to have escaped the almost natural response he’d prompted in her, but for once he does not correct the comparison, he was further intrigued despite himself and leaned his weight upon his own down pointed staff, presenting his intention to remain until she reciprocated in the task of elaborating her words. She nods as if expecting as much and rocks back on her perch, face tilted to the sky with a cynical huff that again, isn’t quite laughter but comes close._

_“I have been leaving ‘gifts’ to Fen’harel since i was 6 years old. I understand it was vaguely cute if a little worrying back then. It became less cute and slightly more worrying when it continued into adulthood. I never understood their need to turn such a simple action into something so…..daring. I was simply keeping a promise...i still am i suppose, though it's not something i think upon so deeply these days”_

_She had answered his question and yet he didn’t move because now he was contemplating the many other questions she had raised, this was another of her unique abilities that seemed to be reserved solely for him. She would tell him about herself, but it was never as easy as simply asking one or two questions, she made him chip away at the surface in order to navigate himself to the core answer of the many questions she often raised in the wake of his own. It occurred to him that she was doing this in order to play a very slow game with him and found himself fascinated rather than annoyed at the presumption, her games were played gently and with no real malice, it was simply a facet of her nature._

_Her sigh is quite theatrical when she notes his immovable but patient expression, yet she indulges him all the same, never needing to hide the fact that she enjoyed speaking to him, not because he was an elf or a mage, but simply because she had a quiet fervor for knowledge he had not seen in her kind for quite some time and it hadn’t taken her long to realise that Solas had a wealth of such knowledge under his belt._

_“When i was very young I used to sneak after my father when he went on one of his hunts. He always knew i was there of course, at six years old i was hardly stealthy, but he would allow the pretence all the same, it was our own unspoken game”_

_She allows him a moment or two to set the scene in his own head, and so he does try to picture her as a child, finding it easier to do so when he watches the almost constant sparkle of mirth hidden in her eyes. For what time he has known her she has not been prone to bouts of sentimentality, any talk of her past becoming light and infused with self deprecating humor. This led him to believe that whatever had truly caused her to remain separated from her clan, she had come to terms with it, almost cheerfully so, unusual for a race that bestowed so much importance upon unity and the strength within._

_“One day i became hopelessly lost, while following father i had been distracted by something, perhaps i heard an interesting noise, or maybe i chased a passing butterfly, i forget that part now, i invite you to make it up as you see fit”_

_Flashing a grin she tucks one foot onto her lap, negligently brushing away the collection of dirt and pine needles from their soles. The wrappings had been removed in favour of feeling the earth beneath her feet, something she has done often, though it had never particularly piqued his curiosity until he’d noted Crestwood’s dry red dirt that coating one of those soles as she rose herself up onto tip toe in order to place the veridium stone upon the pedestal and scratch the statue behind one stoney ear with a faint murmur of.._

_“...a little luck if you don’t mind old wolf”_

_She surprises him with a faint cough, and he is slightly perturbed to find he has fallen into reverie enough for her to have noticed, his attention snapping back to her face, centering on a singular brow raised in silent question before it smooths out and she continues._

_“The more i tried to find my way back home, the more hopelessly lost i became, it was the first time in my life that i ever experienced real fear. Somehow i had wandered out from the boundaries of our camp, the forest became denser with every step and i felt as though the very tree’s were becoming less friendly”_

_Her eyes have become slightly unfocused now and he finds himself slipping down to rest on his haunches, the smooth wood of his staff sliding through his fingers as he watches the familiar process of someone allowing themselves to step deeper into a memory. She had a coarse way with words when it came to dealing with most people, carefully hiding most of what she said within a sharp sense of humor, but there were times like this, when it didn’t seem as though she were putting on some performance to hide her deeper nature, one that seemed far more quiet, and thoughtful._

_“I was so scared that i nearly walked right into their camp. I don’t know why they were there, likely hunters or perhaps soldiers moving from one battlefield to another, it was enough that they were Shemlen and therefore a physical embodiment of every horror story all good Dalish children are taught at birth. At that age i didn’t have the ability to be particularly prejudiced about their kind, but with every frightening story i had been told over the years suddenly superimposed over this group of men, i was damn sure scared enough to find myself fighting the horrible desire to pee my pants”_

_He suppresses most of the chuckle that attempts to slip deviously past his control, though he is too late to catch it before his mouth is robbed of it’s neutral stance in the curving of one corner. Her answering smirk tells him she finds some satisfaction in this and silently he concedes to her unexpected victory with a twirl of his hand, prompting her to continue. She in turn mocks a bow in equally silent acquiescence to his flourished request, ignoring him when his features draw together in his own mockery of impatience._

_“When i could finally feel my legs again i did a very foolish thing...i ran. I don’t know whether they thought i was game or perhaps an intruder, i think you can understand that i didn’t exactly stop to ask them. I had no care as to where i was running too, only what i was running from, so it was hardly surprising that i managed to carry both myself and my pursuers into more dangerous territory. I could still hear the humans crashing through the forest, though my senses had been shaken enough that i couldn’t tell if they were getting nearer or further away. I looked up and there he was…”_

_She does look up now and he is fairly certain that for a moment she’s not seeing the snow dusted mountains through the trees but the clearing of which she speaks, plucking her thoughts from that mental picture in a voice that has grown softer in remembrance and was that...affection?_

_“Just as i had heard the stories of Shemlen, i had heard the many tales of Fen’harel, i should have probably been as afraid of him as i was of the humans, but i could never bring myself to be afraid of the wise old face that stared down at me from those statues, and coming across one in that clearing roused a feeling in me that even a child could recognize...safety”_

_Yes the affection in her tone was unmistakable now, as though she spoke of an old friend rather than a symbol of foolish Dalish fear. He had noticed her lack of deference to her people’s ‘gods’ before, she was never truly blasphemous, nor did she ever say she didn’t believe, but as she had said to him once when he had commented on her unique attitude…” I just have too many questions”_

_“The Dalish have their own prayers of course, but right then i couldn’t remember a single one, only a short and inappropriate nursery rhyme my brother had taught me and i didn’t think that was likely to earn much favour. So i feverishly hunted around my person until i found a chip of obsidian i had picked up somewhere along my wanderings, i couldn’t remember our words, but even i understood the concept of an offering. I climbed up on that pedestal and sat myself between those huge stone paws with that wise old face staring down at me, and i promised i would thank him with an offering every time i saw one of his statues, if he could just see his way to letting me get out of this mess alive”_

_She laughs easily at the foolishness of her younger self, yet the smile left behind is almost proud of a younglings daring at such a frightening time. Meanwhile he is strangely captured by her words, it wasn’t often that anyone spoke of his hidden face with anything but superstition or fear, to hear her speak of his namesake so fondly was a strangely affecting change, one he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt and so he chose not to fell the silence with another of his own questions, she would pick up her words again in her own time, while he was free to study the way the line of her jaw softens from that constantly cynical expression when she spoke of something that touched more than just the surface of her psyche._

_“The men never did find me, i couldn’t say as to when i stopped hearing them trampling through the forest in their heavy boots, i had curled into the shadow of that wolf and eventually fell asleep. It was perhaps unfortunate that some of the more superstitious hunters accompanied my father in his search for me. They said nothing to my father's face of course, but finding me perfectly at peace beneath the gaze of the Dread Wolf was enough for the first uneasy rumblings to begin. When i woke to my father's voice i knew two things at once; I was safe, and i really ought to keep my promise...just in case”_

_“Did you truly believe that the Fen’harel saved you that night?”_

_He is surprised at the self indulgence hidden within his question, and yet cannot bring himself to care, her opinion on the subject seeming to matter to him for some reason. He has used the past tense of course, having already seen that she is far too jaded to believe that the old wolf looked over her now. The ritual of her promise had simply bloomed into an automatic act of superstition, or so he believes….and finds unnervingly charming despite himself. The low tone of her laughter proves his suspicions to be correct, as well as the rolling of her eyes as she brushes the last of the dirt from the sole of her foot._

_“Back then i believed in just about everything my elders told me, considering some of the things we’re supposed to take on faith, thinking that some mythical trickster god chose to save my life wasn’t too far a stretch when you think about it. Of course the older i grew the more questions i asked and such a belief is hard to hold onto after a while”_

_“Then why do you still…”_

_She gives him an incredulous look now, one that practically gleams with all her good humour and it’s a struggle not to note how her expressions can say a hundred things at once._

_“Because I’m not arrogant enough to believe that I might not be wrong! It’d be pretty embarrassing to find out the old wolf has been watching me all this time, only choosing to state his actual existence the one time i don’t honor my promise”_

_His laughter is almost ghostly in it’s softness and yet she seems to take undeniably wicked sense of delight in it, she had been chasing evidence that his sense of humor actually existed after all, and here it was, albeit dry and somewhat neglected. She doesn’t understand the full motivation behind his amusement and nor will she if he watches his step around her, but for the moment he’s allows her this second victory, only giving a sliver of his true self to her after all...he could manage that much at least. The sad truth is of course he hadn’t saved her life, just as he never heard her promise. Watching her he knows the temptation of wandering her dreams again in search of this slightly macabre memory will be hard to resist._

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

He watched her approaching the statue, a helpless ache churning in his gut, making it harder to hold the mask in place for the few moments it took her to place the pyrite between unmoving paws..to stretch up on tip toe to scratch behind a stony ear. Her touch lingered on the stone, the gesture almost seeming like a farewell. Somewhere in the last few years she had stripped her memory of him from that of the stone wolf and the legends that followed it. Now it had simply become the symbol of her youth and her travels, a small comfort that she now seemed to be placing ceremoniously aside. He knew he had to say something soon, but he allowed himself to be struck by her simple action before he pulled himself together once more, not ignorant to her talent of causing the mask to slip so often.

“I will never apologise for my compulsion to watch you, your need to see me again caused something of a stir within the fade, i had never seen such a clustering of Rage and Desire, I’m impressed you withstood possession...though hardly surprised”

He was more honest than he might have wished to be and a part of him wanted to wince at the casual nature of his admittance. It was an old and useless habit now of course, she knew what he felt for her, even if she couldn’t ever truly understand it, it was simply a cruel contortion of fate that in understanding what she meant to him, he had only reinforced his notion to leave before she caused him to doubt his task.However she had been right to chide him for his instinct to lie to her in the first place, for all that they had been through she of all people deserved his honesty, even when it might contain an unkind truth.She laughed, a short and jagged sound that echoed sharply around high stone walls and he could almost capture that same old cynical grin in his mind's eye. Her back still remained turned his way for now and he could feel her mentally preparing herself to to finally look at him. 

“Still not above being an arrogant ass i see, I would applaud your continued ability to strike at just the right nerve but….well”

Dangerous undertones wound snake like around the last few words and his eyes were of course drawn to one long sleeve he knew would be empty should he try to grasp her there. Justification tried to rise to his lips, he had saved her life in taking her arm after all, but they both knew that in the end he would have taken what he needed regardless of her situation. For the first time, the reason for her being here rose as a question in his mind. What was she doing here, if she’d meant to catch him off guard then she had failed spectacularly, but that didn’t feel like the case here. This did not feel like the epic confrontation one might pen into a story, it was more like they were approaching each other carefully through a minefield of painful memories and unanswered want. She had come here with something to say, how terminally she chose to say it was up for interpretation still. By all counts he was still considered an enemy of the inquisition and she was still the inquisitor, he still intended to cause the destruction of her world, one would think that there would be a lot more shouting. He found himself wishing that she would shout, he would find it so much easier to climb back upon his high horse if she were behaving irrationally. But even that dangerous edge to her voice slipped away on a sigh, as if resigning herself before finally turning to look at him.

He was even less prepared for the full confrontation of that face again. She would never be classically beautiful, her features were too sharp, almost hawk like, her expression almost constantly mobile unless she was truly at peace and she appeared as far removed from peace as was possible right now. But there was that same mouth that always seemed to be on the cusp of laughter, and the same eyes that had seemed to all but drink in his every word when he found a topic that fed her obsessive hunger for knowledge, always turning over each of those words to find some point of amusement regardless of her actual interest. But it wasn’t her peculiar features that caused a momentary pause in his heart, nor was it her mouth or eyes, both of which seemed to be straining to find an expression that would fit her current thoughts, because he could see that he affected her just as deeply as she affected him. No, it was the bareness of her face held him still and brought guilt like bile to the back of his throat. The lack of her familiar vallaslin was a silent accusation in it’s own right, a parting gift that might have been beautiful if he had not shattered the illusion by leaving her side almost immediately after. It was a disgraceful thing to do of course, and without context it was unforgivably cruel. But how could he have explained that for a second...just a second, he had looked into her trusting eyes and felt his world shift just enough to entertain the thought of giving it all up, of letting his past go in order to remain with her. That his resolve was tested even in this small way had scared him badly and prompted his quick and brutal ending to their relationship.

“Are you here to kill me?” 

It was the only question he felt safe asking right now, anything else and his voice might well shake enough for her to know that she still affected him more than he would like. She laughed again and that ache in his gut twisted into something sharper because the sound was almost as he remembered it in the moments he had allowed his mind to drift towards her, but only almost because much of the true humor had been dulled over the past three years and it scalded him to know that this had been his doing as well as her own.

“Oh come on Solas, we both know i don’t have the power to kick your ass, and if you have aspirations of kicking mine….well my only request is that if you intend to turn me into a statue, at least allow me a flattering pose”

She waded carefully to the edge of the pool now and sat upon it’s stone ledge , wringing out the edges of fabric that had grown heavy with water and tried to cling to the shape of her bare legs. He had never seen her naked, taking to her bed had been a step too far, an indulgence that would have been a far larger betrayal considering his plans to leave once he had regained his precious orb. The flash of one strong leg from hip to toe through the slit of her robes did not spark a change in his expression while he was still face to face with her, but if given time to inspect the memory another time he knew he would find himself somewhat breathless. 

“I didn’t come here to kill you Solas, nor did i come here to hash out why you hurt me or even why you have turned from the man i both respected and loved to another Corypheus. I am here for one reason and one reason alone”

Though she had now faced him her eyes had not quite settled upon his yet, always moving to a spot just above his shoulder, or focusing on his mouth. Only now did she give him the entirety of her gaze, only now did she show him exactly how sad, weary and old she had become in the last three years. The eyes said it all and yet she opened her hand and let her staff fall with a clatter in order to underline her point.

“I give up..”

“You...what?”

He had understood her perfectly of course and yet he couldn’t come to terms with what she was saying, not right away. This was not typically how the stories were supposed to go. She was the reluctant yet archetypal hero, she was not supposed to give up when someone had threatened her world, and she had proven that much when she had destroyed Corypheus despite everything the corrupted magister had thrown in her path. She had been strong then and he had expected her to be strong now even if she had suffered some emotional bruising. A rather sick part of himself that he often wished didn’t exist felt slightly...cheated, as if her refusal to fight was an unfitting end to something that had become important to him even as he had ended it.

“I give up...I’m done, i no longer have the desire to see this through. I don’t want the future where i have to watch you destroy my world, and i don’t want the future where i have to kill you in order to prevent it. I don’t want my last memory of you to once again be your retreating back while you do the fucking honorable thing”

This was a little too much, she was applying mental pressure to the edges of his mask once more, trying to separate Fen'harel from Solas, a state of being he might almost have forgotten if he still hadn’t been tempted by the lure of her dreams from time to time. But this was not the fade, not his comfort zone, and her blunt honesty touched upon his honed will like silent hammer blows. She was approaching him now, her steps cautious yet unfaltering and it took much of that crumbling will not to take a step back and ward her away from him, as if one touch from her might well turn his resolve to dust. She was too real and he had forgotten what that had felt like in her absence, she would always blaze past his careful defences, reminding him all too painfully of what he was about to destroy. 

“My grand adventure is finally over...so where the hell else would i go but here, who else would i come to when i know that this world is soon going to end in horror and so much pain. I’ve hated you harder than i have hated any other creature in existence, and that only made the love all the more fierce. Trying to forget you was like trying to forget i couldn’t pick anything up with an amputated arm, the ghost of you was too strong, just like the muscle memory i can still feel when I’m not thinking about it and reach for something”

She was almost toe to toe with him now, close enough for see the scrapes and scratches she had gained upon getting here, close enough for him to almost taste the bitter edge to her last words. Again he fought the desire to push her away, all too aware of a growing desire to do exactly the opposite, it was an urge that could be all too easily acted upon in the face of her angry surrender. But she did not press their proximity any further, tucking her remaining hand to the small of her back as if warding herself from doing the same thing for likely exactly the same reason.

“I have thrown too many lives to the cause of stopping you, and none of it has mattered in the long run, you’ve had too long to plan and even my knowledge is only but a fraction of your own, you were always going to win, but none of us really wanted to admit it.You will tear down the veil, you couldn’t turn away from that course now even if you wanted to, but i have no intention of watching my world burn, so if you truly mean to cross that line...when the time comes, you can start with me”

The silence between them now was as solid as diamond, in fact it was more a complete absence of sound, a moment in time where everything living held a collective breath, not even a breeze daring to interrupt the air around them. He didn’t want to credit what he had just heard and yet he had heard it with the same perfect clarity as always. What she was asking...demanding, made his stomach roil unpleasantly and the shock was too much to keep from his widening eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“You cannot be serious, I am not going to kill you!!”

He didn’t bother to strip the horror from his words, the idea appalled him and he wasn’t going to try hiding that from her. She took a few steps up and raised her arm as if presenting herself for the taking, he made a choked sound of disgusted dismay before turning away from her.

“Well...you are actually. How long do you think i will survive once you have torn down the barrier between us and them, or does it feel slightly less like killing me if I’m simply one among thousands. I choose to die first, i chose to be the only one allowed to look you in the eye when you finally do it. Come on Solas, allow me this one thing, allow me to mean something to you one last time, if not as your lover then at least as someone who means more than just another game piece you are about to sweep off the board, allow me to have mattered enough for you to do the deed by your own hand!”

The confidence and conviction was slipping from her voice now, and for all her assertion her words were still a raw plea that both repelled him and made him want to touch her again despite the danger she still posed to his resolve. Her eyes were wide and her expression caused another memory to almost unsteady him for it was a look he recognized, desperate fear. It pierced him deeper than his horror at her demand to make her the herald of her worlds destruction.

\----------------------------------------------------------

_To step into her dreams is of course an invasion of her privacy, a truth that he turns aside in favour of his desire to see the younger version of herself in such a defining moment. It was a whim born of his own curiosity and perhaps a desire to hear one voice call out to him in something other than superstitious fear. That he didn’t deserve such a reprieve was not lost on him, but even he was prone to collapse in the face of his own desires as he was doing now, picking his way carefully through a forest crafted by her subconscious. It had been safe enough to assume that asking her to relive this particular moment in her past would bring it forward in her mind, leaving it as a ripe subject for her dreaming mind to find purchase. Of course like most dreams, he has to endure a fragmented start which covers such subjects as helping Sera load pies into a catapult, a halla that recited long forgotten Tevinter poetry and a breathless few moments when her mind touches upon a kiss that had never happened._

_This last was mercifully brief, he would invade her privacy and feel only a small regret, but seeing the very hidden corners of her mind would have felt like a molestation of her thoughts and he was relieved when the cool, dark forest could be felt beneath his feet. The beginning of her dreams were merely fanciful and mostly irrelevant stops along whatever path her subconscious was choosing, they were insubstantial things whose outlines often became vague. But now she dreamed with enough clarity that he knows he is walking in memory rather than imagination._

_The chill wind plucks at as his robes and chases flurries of light rain through dense foliage, stinging his cheeks and forcing him to squint his eyes. This memory is strong, a place often visited both sleeping and awake. It was strong enough for the wind to howl and the blunt progress of heavily booted feet to be picked up in the peripheral of his hearing. He does his best to tune it out, or at least to separate these sounds from the one he wants. It takes very little assertion of his will to pinpoint what he was looking for; the soft sound of someone trying to be quiet while sobbing. Now he moves both silently and unseen towards the source of that sound, moving through her thoughts with the self assurance of one who has done this in a thousand dreams. The sudden clearing amongst the trees offers a rather starkly touching tableau and his own cynicism demands that he keep in mind that people often embellished a memory, even unconsciously._

_Still, it is a sight to pull upon even the tautest of heart strings and he suspects that much of it is unadorned truth. The girl is too skinny for her age and small enough to be almost swallowed by the stone wolf’s shadow, her eyes are wild and searching in the darkness, hair a few shades darker than the white blonde he had grown accustomed to sticking to a pale face, two hectic spots of colour burning like brands upon her cheeks. She is clutching the immovable fur between the wolf’s throat and chest, as if seeking the comforting texture of the real thing beneath her palms. Whether she is shaking from fear or cold is academic since he knows it is likely both, he continues to watch like a silent sentinel witnessing this moment in her life as she had likely wished he had when she dared to ask his favor._

_She has stopped crying by the time she places her forehead to the stone clutched between her hands, although her body still shudders with the occasional aftershock of her tears, little stuttering breaths following in their wake._

_“Please….please hear me. I don’t know what to do”_

_If he hadn’t been straining to hear it, her whispers might have been lost amongst the wind and the heavy patter of rain on the leaves above. Her pleas have a desperate, clinging edge to them, she is terrified and placing her faith in the only thing left to her, and he felt just a touch more guilt for being here to witness it, though still not enough to tear himself away._

_“Don’t let them find me. I’ll be quiet and won’t cry anymore. I’ll just stay here and you can make them go away...and then i can find my way home again”_

_Now her words are garbled mis-matched sentences as she attempts to find the right words of supplication but he knows she won’t find any in his name. He is close enough now that he could almost reach out to comfort the child, but he won’t interfere here, he merely watches as her attempts at prayer slip away to more wrenching, whispered pleas until she begins to rummage feverishly into her pockets, throwing aside a few odd twigs and other woodland detritus she’d likely deemed interesting enough to keep at some point. The obsidian shard is a deeper shadow sitting upon her open palm and he winces slightly at the large, hopeful eyes that turn up to the proud stone wolf in supplication. When she had spoken of this the scene he imagined had been quite charming in a childish way, and yet the way this girl looks upon statue and likely the personification beyond….it causes his stomach to clench in unpleasant ways. He had never sought to be worshiped and watching her do so now was an uncomfortable experience._

_“I know it isn’t much….but father always said it was better to give little and often if you didn’t have much so…..i’ll always leave a present at your statue’s, wolves like presents right...i bet you don’t get many, they're all scared of you. But if you help me then i’ll know you can’t be bad and if you’re not bad then you should get presents like the others”_

_The careful and frankly honest logic of a child is always something to behold, a mind became cluttered with reasoning and doubts as one grew older, while a child simply strives for the obvious with an undeveloped moral compass. What might she have become if not for this moment. Would the superstitions of her people successfully poison her mind against the wolf enough that she would have passed those statue’s without daring to look them in the eyes. Would troublesome questions have died on her lips or would they have perished before even gaining a foothold, leaving her to be naught more than another of the Dalish. It is her unique qualities that draw his curiosity, a piece that did not fit within his opinions of the Dalish, her very personality causing him to ask questions of his own views. She fascinated him beyond her survival of the mark and her exit from the fade, and from where he stands he believes he knows where she had truly began to be her._

_Her supplications begin to fade to whispers and once she is sleeping beneath the wolf’s gaze he draws away, the dream already beginning to unravel to another of those insubstantial fancies of her resting mind._

\--------------------------------------------------

He was ashamed to admit that he couldn’t look her in the eye for long, that burning plea was still there, hiding everything else that had once drawn him to her, transforming her into something slightly pathetic and oh how he hated that his mind picked such a word but it was true. He has seen her face down so much without hesitation, she had pulled strength from reserves that should have long run out and she had never given in to the urgency of her fear, to see her do so now was like looking in on something obscene and absurdly private. He backed away from her yet again unable to cope with the weight of that gaze, giving her his back as he paced back and forth, the usual economic grace of his movements lost to something that felt strangely like panic. He had never wanted to see that look again, seeing it in her dreams had been bad enough, to have it directed at him right here and now was worse. 

“What you ask is….i cannot do this, i would give you anything but that. You ask too much”

He visibly drew himself together with those last few words, his voice becoming proud and sharp once more. Better that she saw him as arrogant than as afraid. He could turn her away if he could hold onto himself for just a little longer. This was harder than simply drawing his will together, for half of that will couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her again, practice had not made it any easier, quite the opposite in fact. Each time he had walked away from her he left a scar that only he could see, hurting her again would cost him. But when the alternative meant watching her eyes become unseeing…

“Well i knew you were cold, but i never imagined that you might be a coward Fen’harel”

The pleading had left her voice, melted away by the heat that curled about her words like fine steam. Each syllable of that name was drawn out and enunciated with a deadly precision, her tongue now a razor that drew against his skin in a swift strike. For a moment he became as still as the old stone wolf, she had never used that name to his face, even when she knew who he truly was.

“Talitha…” 

He hadn’t tasted her name on his tongue for years. The single word was set down carefully like a trap whose spring is a hair's breadth away from coming undone, the last syllable ending in a low growl, a warning not to proceed because her steps were now verging on dangerous territory. For all that he cared for her, he was still pride and this was still his sanctuary. The growl echoed over the roof of the chamber and he felt a dim satisfaction when the faintest of gasps found his ears. His somewhat petty victory was short lived however.

“Oh don’t, don’t hide behind the wolf now, that might have truly impressed me if i were still trying to get into your pant’s, all i want from you is the ending i deserve, because you stole any chance of a happy ending i had!”

Damn her! In one sentence she had both choked an abrupt laugh from his throat and drove something sharp somewhere in the region of his kidneys. She’d always had a way with words, and they had often effect of drawn more from him than he meant to give. She was working herself up to a fine rant now, he knew that when she mixed her humor with anger it was always safest to find some sort of cover. She was the only woman he knew who would dare to inform Corypheus that nobody wanted a god whose face reminded them of a mabari licking piss off a nettle.

“You waited until the very moment when i thought that it was all over, that there just might be something between us that might survive your bloody honor now that the worst was over. But you left, you ran away and you are still running away from the messes you have made. Look at me dammit””

The flames missed his face and he was quite sure that they meant to, but he still felt the brush of warm air pass like heated knuckles grazing his cheek. The fire slammed into the wall, spraying chips of rock as it fanned out and disappeared, and the wolf sprang. His body moved without conscious thought, augmented by a deceptive speed that propelled and slammed her slightly shorter frame into rough stone, a primordial snarl baring his teeth at her upturned face. He had meant to defend but somehow his frustration had gotten caught up in the wake, and for just a moment he wanted to set his teeth into her throat. It was likely what she had wanted from him, but he wasn’t entirely sure that his own reasons were not based on sex rather than death. It was clear how she interpreted his vicious display when she didn’t attempt to struggle, remaining perfectly still with her face tilted up at that snarl, her eyes slitted and daring him to continue, to let his pride and anger win long enough to finish what he had started.

“Do it”

He had thought she meant to punish him with her demand, to make it harder for him to destroy her world if he must first begin with her, but the absolute resigned surety in her eyes told him differently. She truly had given up, and right now she wanted him to end her as badly as she had once wanted to spend her years wandering the land freely in search of more than what a clan could offer her. His contorted face slackened gradually and the fingers digging into her one remaining arm loosened by degrees while he quietly came to terms with two things. Firstly,that she was right, he owed her a great deal, perhaps even a dignified death,and secondly, he still could not bring himself to do it, even when every inch of her being was willing him to. She lifted her hand to close around the fingers now resting on her upper arm, that touch imploring rather than demanding.

“Please..”

The word is rough and raw in her throat and something gave way painfully in his chest at the fatalistic quality of that sound. He would have done anything to take it away, and the worst part was, he knew he could do just that. Not by killing her but by doing something so despicably selfish that the idea would have shamed him into rethinking such a course if she were not so close after so long living in only memories of her. He reached up to trace the curve of a prominent cheekbone with the edge of a thumb, head bowing low enough to fill her vision.

“Vhenan..”

Her entire body jerked and she snatched her hand away from his fingers as if they had burned her. Eyes relenting from their demand to become incredulous and frightened all at the same time. If there were ever a time for him to decide to turn back from this method of distraction it was likely now, but he became lost in the way she snapped her eyes shut and turned her head away, shrinking into the stone as if she wished to escape through it.

“Oh you bastard….oh you devious bastard!”

He brushed across a trembling lower lip and allowed himself to remember how it had felt to kiss her. He had always thought that there was something a little wild about her,something that went beyond her being Dalish, the very same thing that had once made her race august rams barefooted in the Emerald Graves.She had laughed hard that day, full of exhilaration in a single moment when she had been allowed to temporarily forget the trials that still lay before her. That night he had kissed her because the thought of not chasing that joy from her mouth was an unbearable thing, and all the reasons he shouldn’t had suddenly become pale and small. He let the memory of her settle upon him once more, to do this with anything less than his true feelings, to hide behind the wolf and the stone mask now would make what he was about to do far worse.

“Please Solas...this is cruel even for you”

If she could have crawled her way up the wall she likely would have and now he trapped her further, pressing his forehead to hers, his words warm and ghostlike in the brief space between them, fingers applying the lightest of pressure to her jaw, turning her face back to his despite the tightly closed eyes she still refused to open, as if the sight of him would set flame to the last restraint holding her to her purpose.

“Open your eyes Vhenan”

The space between them was less than a breath now, and when the next exhale left her in a quiet whimper he could taste it, an open desperation of a new kind, one they both knew all too well. That same desperation had ripped away at his insides in protest every time he had forced himself to walk away from her. The knowledge that he could have easily become lost in her had always been enough to stop him from doing anything they would both regret, firstly because anything that might have distracted him from what needed to be done was dangerous, but also because he knew the more of himself he gave to her, the harder it would be for both of them when he had to leave. When she had kissed him in the fade it had been like cool water splashing down a long ago cracked and dry throat, and when she had pulled away, possibly mortified at her own daring, that one taste had simply not been enough for such a thirst as his. When she finally relented and opened her eyes he felt that thirst again, thickening his tongue, drawing his attention to the helpless longing laced with fear that wavered in her eyes. In all their time it had been he who had been afraid of what one simple kiss could lead to, now that their roles were reversed and his mask was set aside he could not help but feel a surge of satisfaction that he would no doubt hate himself for later.

“You have always been lathbora viran”

Whatever sound she meant to make next, be it acceptance or further anger towards his audacity, he didn’t hear, he had breached the bare space between them as he sought more than just the memory of her kiss. If she truly had a protest left in her it now died against his mouth, the firm press of lips insistent enough to rob her of any thought further than the next second and then the next. He was stealing her will to fight or even think all over again, but with the taste pouring into every dry and dying cell of his body he found himself caring less and less about why he was doing this or the consequences that would follow. When she parted her lips against his own with a hard shudder,his tongue didn’t hesitate to slip its way past such an invitation, slaking a thirst that had hounded him to utter distraction before now.

His selfish act became all the more selfish when reasoning slipped away entirely and he was simply reacting to the way she seemed to break beneath his kiss. Reason and consequence were tiny specks upon the horizon of his mind now, the old wolf would finally drown himself in her.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of what was supposed to be shameless smut which continues to grow into more than i thought it would. I believe that there is still one more chapter to come, but until then i hope you enjoy this latest instalment as much as i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> For those of you interested, this entire short was inspired by a single song as well as my desire for a satisfactory end to the solasmance. 
> 
> I know you, by White Buffalo, seems to have been created to accompany a trailer for Halo Wars 2, but upon hearing it for the first time it immediately made me think of a Solas/Lavellan confrontation/
> 
> Further notes to be found at the end of chapter.

**Part 2**

 

_Once again he seeks her out , when he feels sufficient time has been given for the wounds of Adamant to have begun to heal. She no longer has the old run down house to claim as her place of solitude, and they are still pushing their advantage through the Emerald Graves. Though they have just cleared a grand old house of it’s numerous undead as well as its curse, none of them seemed inclined to spend the night within it’s walls and so they unanimously opted for one of the Inquisition camps instead. Somewhere amidst the shedding of armour and organising of food and sleeping arrangements, she had slipped away, a habit she was prone to after a particularly long day._

_The others often assumed that she disappeared to step closer to nature, to be closer to home. They were partly right, she did indeed seek out the wilder places, but she had never wanted to return to her people, she simply wished to wear the whole world as her home. Varric had come up with more than one theory that involved dancing naked by the moonlight, he imagined the dwarf would be somewhat disappointed if he found out she was simply drinking wine while wedged in the branches of a tree. She seems perfectly at peace however, a dark bottle resting on her thigh while she quietly sings a song of Ferelden origin, something about a bear and a maiden fair if he strains hard enough to listen._

_It is becoming all too easy for her to bring a smile to his face. At one point he would have schooled every expression before he made it, but the sight of her up there is both utterly absurd and once again...charming. It’s an odd and fussy word to spring to his mind, and yet she was delightful in the way she could surprise him._

_“You are a terrible at being Dalish”_

_She rolls her head against the bark to look down at him with her lazy eyes and curving smirk. With a shrug of her shoulders she tips the bottle to her lips, a few swallows convulsing their way down her upturned throat. Despite her sloth like demeanour he can feel that her mood tonight is electric, he could feel her magic in tiny occasional bites at his skin, not entirely unpleasant and indicating that she was still feeling the fierce joy a moment's freedom could offer._

_“I’ll have you know that sitting in a tree and drinking cheap wine does not make me a bad dalish”_

_She lifts the wine a second time now and then pauses with the bottles lip touching against a wider grin she cannot seem to suppress._

_“Not taking ….’It’s been our way for hundreds of years”...as an answer to most of the questions i asked of our keeper makes me a bad Dalish, you have to watch those definitions Solas. Besides i thought you would be pleased, i seem to remember you having some rather strong opinions about my people, you looked rather adorable while you climbed up on that particular high horse”_

_He knew quite well when she was preparing herself for a proper verbal sparring, it was a favoured game she played with practically everyone, which delighted people like Varric and Dorian, frustrated Cassandra and reduced their poor Commander to hiding in his office when a conflict of interests arose. Of course her favoured victim was himself, though she curiously only did so when they were alone, it seems that theirs is a private game. He is not sure he has it in him to win tonight, not when she’s calmly waiting for the right moment to disperse the remaining excess of joyful energy he can still faintly feel pulling and snapping at his skin. A few steps take him to the base of the tree, close enough to reach up and touch a dangling foot if he’d had the inclination to do so._

_“The horse was quite a modest height i assure you, might i ask what a warm camp lacks that a tree does not? If you spend much more time away Varric’s tales are liable to become even more embellished”_

_“He thinks i dance naked under the moon, I’m not really sure it could get much worse. I came out here because as much as i love our agent’s I’m in no mood to recount the chilling tale of that bloody house, did Varric send you to check if i really did dance sans clothing?”_

_He begins to feel faintly awkward and foolish now that he’s here, she’s easy to talk to but she was difficult to read when in this mood, and the idea of seeking her out just to taste her again while she still had the joy of the woodlands in her blood seemed childish. It was not easy to find parts of himself awakened after such a long time. He once spoke to her of indomitable focus and had always considered his own to be unbendable, especially when it came to the fade. Now he was facing emotions and less than useful moral reactions that had long since atrophied somewhere alongside his patience for fools. These feelings and compulsions were like newborn limbs on the old wolf. He realises he hasn’t answered her though she hasn’t prompted him for an answer, comfortable silences between them were absurdly easy to fall into, though he knows he must say something soon._

_“I came of my own accord, would you consent to coming down from the tree or must i embarrass myself by attempting to climb up?”_

_He doesn’t need to look up to know that she’s likely wearing her ‘contemplative’ expression right now, as if seriously considering the merits of making him climb the tree, though in the end it seems that her curiosity wins out over laughing at his expense. A faint rustle of leaves is all the warning he receives before she drops down in front of him, landing at his feet in a half crouch, a position that is momentarily feral until she stands, brushing loose dirt from her hands while she watches him expectantly._

_“Oh now this must be serious if it warrants you risking the possibility of being embraced by a tree. What did i do this time….wait, is this about the bed roll because i only told Sera where she could find some lizards”_

_“I am not here about...what lizards?”_

_“Ah right not that then...Oh wait...you’re here to tell me off for letting Varric take a piss behind that Mythal statue aren’t you...it’s not blasphemous if you don’t do it with malicious intent…”_

_He knows that if he let’s her, she will run verbal rings around him until his own frustration gave way and he gifted her with some sort of reaction aside from his usual outward calm. Another night he might well have indulged her, but she is closer than he expected and he can still feel her magic sparking, those little nips at his flesh becoming more insistent. There are about a hundred reasons as to why he shouldn’t be doing this, they were all lined up neatly in the back of his mind where he is now resolutely ignoring them. Her presence has become a quietly demanding one over the past few weeks, though she has not once pressed him about the dynamics of their strange relationship, there is a sense of her patiently waiting, and the knowledge that she would wait for exactly how long it took for her strange companion to finally say something. In the meantime she remained his compelling and intelligent friend and things would seem...easier, until those random stolen moments when he could not resist and she could never say no._

_Her wandering mouth is lining up more words to throw at him, perhaps she is nervous, he’d hardly taken the time to really let her know where she stands with him after all, too many secrets and not enough words to explain any of them to her, instead he leaves her to fumble in the dark when it comes to understanding his motivations, a place she must remain if he is to keep his identity._

_“...aren’t even listening to me are you, your brain has wandered off to do cartwheels in the fade hasn’t it. I could have been saying anyth-”_

_Too many words he decides, and that slight difference in their height allows him to bear down on those fast flowing words, cutting them off, robbing her voice with a kiss that is a little fiercer than he first intended. Her response is as immediate as her sudden silence, those flippant words swallowed down in favour of surging up on her toes to match the pressure of lips, as if she has been waiting for some cue all this time. Her hunger catches him off guard. Until now she has always been careful, not passive and yet never aggressive, as if she knew all too well how prone he would be to his sudden fits of conscience. Tonight her lips and tongue are devious tools that she actually uses against him this time. Quick and wet her tongue touches his lower lip and it’s utter instinct that prompts his own to give chase, so easily coaxed to explore her warm, wine spiced mouth. She pours the wild of her nature and plenty of unspoken words in this kiss and he is ill prepared to do anything but follow it's lead, that hunger leeching into him, guiding his hands to sink into the warm, living silk of her hair._

_A single step back and it feels perfectly natural to rest his back against rough bark, drawing her with him because he doesn’t dare break this connection, if he allowed himself to think for a second then he would realise all too quickly that what he was doing was wrong. Instead he allows her sinewy frame to press closer to his, encourages her teeth nipping at his lip with a soft but guttural sound. The air is becoming heavy between them now, making the quiet noises in the back of her throat all the louder to his ears, he’s only too aware how easy it would be to coax more sounds from her and he feels a rush of heat that is sudden and entirely male. A hand slips deftly beneath cotton, cool fingertips stroking the bare skin just above his navel and now his reaction is almost automatic, one hand dropping from her hair to seize her wrist as he draws in a sharp breath between clenched teeth. It is all the opening that his waiting conscience needs and now it floods into the forefront of his mind, dutifully pointing out that he was very steadily stepping over a line here. Carefully he withdraws her hand, dimly aware that he is panting slightly and that she has become utterly still against him as she waits to see what would happen this time._

_Rather than push her away he turns her body to switch their positions before regretfully letting her hand slide from his as he takes a step back. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, as if she has been running again, while her eyes bear an almost amused incredulity when he steps back. He expects her to demand an explanation this time, he had all but attacked her mouth and now he was placing more distance between them._

_“I am sorry, this was not what i…”_

_She surprises him yet again when she steps forward to quiet his mouth with two fingers that press against his lips only enough to silence his apology. She is far from unaffected by his sudden change in direction, her cheeks are flushed and he can actually see her restraining the outrage he’s no doubt elicited in her until she smiles at him in a way that promises future retribution, but for now she will let it slide rather than hear him make the same apologies without really telling her a thing. There is a touch of sadness to that smile but she does not seem inclined to pursue it as she steps around him to bend and pick up her staff, securing it to the sling at her back. He doesn’t want to let her walk away and yet he will because she truly didn’t deserve this and counting on his own restraint isn’t working out so well anymore._

_“Come we’d best return before Varric’s embellishments become grander than even he can manage”_

_She was yet again granting him a reprieve and not for the first time he knows that he doesn’t deserve her, he is a selfish old wolf, but oh how she made being selfish so easy for him. She watches as he picks up the staff he doesn’t even remember dropping, her hip cocked and chin lifted, and he is briefly visited by that flare of heat again. She will never press him, never demand and part of him wishes that she would, if she could despise his cowardice rather than accommodate it, perhaps it might be easier to finally put a stop to this. It is his intention to follow her back to the camp, perhaps in that same companionable silence they both seemed to treasure, but he can tell by the way she bounces on the balls of her feet that she intends to run, whether from him or simply as a way to shed more of her energy he can’t say, but the display of her impending flight compels him to call out to her without knowing what he is going to say. Perhaps he just doesn’t wish ‘sorry’ to be the last thing she hears again._

_“Talitha…”_

_“Hmmm?” She is itching to go, fists opening and closing, eyes making quick darting movements in search of the path._

_“...lizards, really?”_

_He is relieved to see her break into a wide grin as she begins to stride backwards, that spark of wickedness highlighting her eyes once again._

_“Sorry Solas, but my lips seem to yet again be temporarily sealed...watch out for the bear traps” and with that parting shot she pivots on one heel and is gone in a spray of loose dirt and dry leaves at a pace he has no hope of matching, at least not in this form. When she is gone he is left with only the fitful silence and the memory of her hunger, not an easy one to shake, certainly not while his lips still faintly tingled and the taste of wine was still to be found on his tongue._

 

__________________________________________

 

She had turned to water in his hands, skin and cloth sliding against and between fingers that had shifted to find the natural angles of a hip and the small of her back where she was warmest. Her urge to fight had been taken in the most wicked of ways and now she flowed against him, her body fitting perfectly in line with his own, constantly shifting as he poured five years worth of collective need past her lips. He’d had far too long to contemplate what it would have been like to have just given in, and more than enough time for those contemplation's to plant and grow an almost overwhelming need inside him. Leaving her might have been the right thing to do, but it had done nothing to relieve the wounds he had inflicted upon himself, and in the brief moments when his mind hadn’t been occupied he had always found his thoughts settling in the same place, what he had denied himself in denying her. There is enough want between them that the kiss was almost bruising, his tongue relentlessly seeking out hers while her teeth nipped feverishly at his lower lip. The need to breath forces them apart long enough for him to bury his face in that warm spot just behind her ear, where her scent was truest, that fragrant warmth filling his nose and lungs and he allowed a helpless groan before he set the fire of his mouth to throat.

He found the rapid beat of her pulse and lips began to suck at the quickening flesh, feeling it flutter all the harder against his tongue and he becomes far too aware that only a thin layer of soft skin lay between his teeth and this precious life source. She arches in his grip, her fingers digging deep into the flesh of his shoulder beneath the supple leather, and yet she suppresses her voice as she has done every time he has dared to kiss her. Perhaps she was still cautious after all this time, afraid to show too much in case he ran again, or perhaps she was merely being stubborn, still angered by this insidious tactic, he found that he didn’t much care for the reason. If he was truly going to damn himself in the sweetest of ways, he would drain every scrap of pleasure he could from this, and that included her voice. Nothing in dream or memory could have truly prepared him for something like this, his will, morals and resolve had never been tested to its limits by a mortal before and if he’d cared to be truthful, some dim part of him needed all that uphill struggle to be worth this one night he might have with her.

The ability to stand was becoming a precarious one, he could feel her weight sagging in his arms and broke away from her throat long enough to bring them both to their knees, the stone hard and unforgiving beneath them,an ironic tribute he thinks, for nothing between them has ever been soft, or easy. Love had been warped into pain and then war between them, it was only fitting that this should hurt them both just a little. Fingers that were usually so agile and sure now fumbled at his unfamiliar clothing long enough for her brow to furrow and lips to purse in frustration and he was reminded that he had loved her even in her imperfect moments. His hand takes up her own, guiding it to ties and fastenings while he watched her solemn expression as she pushes aside cloth, fur and mail to bare the man beneath, expressive eyes becoming almost thoughtful while the close warmth of her hand hovered above his chest. The memory of his flinching at her touch seemed to have stayed with her and it remained fresh to him too, the quick fear that had seized him when he felt the urgent reaction she had caused in a body that had been asleep for hundreds of years. 

His fingers slid over the back of hers, pressing that hesitant warmth to his chest with a long sigh, such intimate a contact long denied now almost becoming a shock to his system, a soft spark that ignited a skin hunger in him, a gripping desire for more of that warmth and softness. Her hand is drawn over his chest and along the curve of his neck by his own guiding hand, the side of his face now pressed to the palm, his head turning slightly to kiss and gently bite at the delicate skin of her inner wrist. He released her long enough to shrug away the rest of the clothing above his waist, the jawbone now a slightly more savage looking thing while it lay against his flesh, framed by a pale that began to explore and spread that ever growing desire to feel more of her without the trapping of garments. While she carefully mapped the contours of his body he dropped his head to the curve of her neck and shoulder once more, tasting the flesh there until he met the resistance of her robe, an unfamiliar and unnecessarily fiddly garment, he remembered her best in loose Dalish spun fabrics and supple leather, this thing was a little too ostentatious for his taste, it was also in his way.

In deference to both his distaste and impatience with the garment he curled fingers into the neckline and tugged, at first just enough to spread the heat of his mouth further from her throat, but another tug caused something to give way enough to expose the round of one shoulder, the unblemished flesh practically begging for the soft press of his teeth. A sharper wrench on the fabric caused the robe to split along an integral seam and then it took only a few more tugs to bring the garment to her waist and he spared no time in drawing her against his chest, teeth setting harder into her shoulder when all that soft, natural warmth slid along his own skin, the whisper of flesh accompanied by a hushed whimper released against the line of his jaw. He could still the hands now roaming her flesh, following the curve of her ribs to the swell of hips where cloth impeded him only long enough for the quick work of one hand to push the continuously offending robe to her knees, the other sliding upward to cup the swell of one breast, thumb grazing it’s peak briefly before moving on to map the rest of her body. There was a momentary pause when he reached what remained of her left arm, guilt parting the cloud of desire long enough for him to look down at his own handiwork, his lips pressed together in a thin line to trap a hundred useless words of apology. 

The sudden sharp nip to the tip of his ear tears his immediate attention away, Indicating that she had as much use for his apologies as he did in this moment. His response is a moment of instinct, the short growl becoming a base line that rumbled in his chest when she sucks at the offended flesh, the old wolf almost certain that he can feel her lips curving into that familiar smirk, half smug and half amused. Retribution was easily won with arms that encircled her back, twisting and dipping his body to lower her to the floor, head darting forward to close his mouth over her breast before her shoulders touch the stone. The brief war with her own voice was lost in that moment, her low moan unravelling the last parts of him which that might have had a care that what he was doing couldn’t possibly lead towards a happy ending for either of them. 

A flick of his tongue over a her nipple and she was shaking in his hands, he felt the flesh stiffen against the agile muscle and sucked as if expecting to draw something from her, in this case it was another moan, the sound finding a rather primal switch in his brain, which in turn sends the impulse to graze teeth over the trapped flesh until he feels her back arch away from the floor. The hardened peak was swollen and sensitive by the time he released her, a casual slip of his tongue making her twitch and dig her heels into the stone. A low, decidedly male chuckle slipped from his chest as his head bent to her other breast, eyes flicking upwards to witness the flush that finds her cheeks in response to that sound. His eyes narrowed with growing desire and long fingers slid down the heaving dip of her stomach as he bit her just that little harder, slipping those fingers between her thighs to find her wet and squirming.

The sound of her hoarse cry finally called his attention to how hard he was when he felt the twitch behind straining cloth, not enough to lose his patience just yet however. He had seen so many facets of the woman beneath him, he had seen her at her lowest ebb and her highest seat of power, shared her intelligent, contemplative moments and witnessed her wicked joy, but this was new, a side of her that was both raw and compelling to him. He waited until she finally gave him her eyes once more, pinning her with his own as he slowly and deliberately slipped two fingers inside until his palm pressed tightly against her sex. He didn’t give her time to gather her thoughts, she was still gasping in shaken breaths when those fingers pulled back, curled upwards and drove in again, the pads scraping over rougher, hidden flesh, palm grinding slowly into a bundle of nerve endings that sent her into almost epileptic fits of movement. His mouth found hers again, lips bruising, drinking down the broken sounds from her throat, the hand between her thighs working relentlessly, a heady sort of determination gripping him that was only marginally satisfied when her hips began to buck against his hand. He was pride, and he wanted to see her come apart beneath him, to see all her strength and guile melt away with just a few strokes of his fingers. It was not a spiteful thought, nor was it precisely a desire to demean her in his own eyes, it was simply his nature to take pride in what he could do to her, this relentless creature that had brought half a nation to it’s knees, now keening against his mouth, working in tandem with his movements in that familiar dance that once started...simply had to reach its end.

Just not right away.

He waited until he could feel inner walls gripping his fingers and pulls back, the tips brushing that sensitive spot before she is left empty and panting, staring up at him as if she cannot quite believe that he would stop now. Her dawning outrage feeds something in him that had little to do with sex and if he ever thought he had more time he would have pushed that outrage to it’s limits just to see if she would lash out at him or perhaps even beg. The latter is a powerful thought that had everything to do with sex if the response behind binding cloth was anything to go by. He hadn’t planned on snatching up her hand, but once he slid it between them and pressed her fingers to the firm ache of his groin, the words fell from his mouth into her ear as he bent his head with a groan. 

“This is what you do to me. All that control, all that will, ten lifetimes of practice and this is what you do to me...what you did to me every time we kissed”

It was like his subconscious had catalogued everything he had wanted to say each time he had pulled away from her, and now it came tumbling out as she shook his hand away and wrapped her fingers around the shape of him through cloth. The words were both bitter and heated strongly with lust, his voice a growling whisper that was punctuated by a roll of hips against her palm.

“You shattered me, you were always too real to ignore no matter what i did, and your acceptance of my strange ways only made the want all the stronger, why did you have to make it all so real”

His tongue traces the outer edge of her ear, proving that he didn’t really expect an answer to his question when he sucked at the tip, relishing the way she gripped him and cried out at the same time. 

“I had to watch you grow closer to all of them while i had to keep pushing you away. You had become theirs but you were mine and there were times i hated them all because they never had to hide what they felt”

Her blind hand now moved to the lacing of his pants, tugging and pulling until there is merciful slack and those fingers were spilling beneath fabric to find him hot and aching. He made a choked sound and pushed down into the fingers that wrapped around him, soft..skillful fingers that he’d seen wielding a spirit blade with furious abandon, the same fingers that had lingered on his jaw when she first took it upon herself to kiss him. She began to stroke, the lazy but firm glide of her hand drawing long shuddering breaths, the old wolf desperately trying to gather the thoughts she had thrown to the wind with fingers that seemed to be as wicked as her eyes.

His possessive nature was almost as well hidden as his identity had been, it had lasted longer than his name but the sensation had been there from the moment they had taken down the dragon in the Hinterlands. He’d almost swallowed his own heart when he watched her charge towards the creature alongside Cassandra and Bull, only to see her wield the spirit blade with far more skill than he would have credited a Dalish. She had stood there in the aftermath, black with soot, dragon blood splashed brightly over pale skin like a war brand, and he’d had the overwhelming desire to sink his teeth into the top of her shoulder until he tasted blood, a primal claim that had scared him badly and yet was so close to the surface that he’d had to turn and walk away towards the broken bridge. He had not marked her flesh but he had marked her somewhere in his mind and now his mouth was hovering over that very same spot, the desire so strong that it made his jaw ache, yet he had just enough sense not to let the impulse push him over….until she bit him.

It wasn’t a particularly hard or painful bite to the throat, but his his hand snapped about her wrist and hauled her arm up over her head, pinning it there as he looked down at her, the heated need between his legs now reflected in his eyes. She had always known how to provoke him, whether she was seeking his laughter, his knowledge or even his lust she knew just where to apply the right amount of pressure. He couldn’t be entirely sure that this was the reaction she was looking for here and now, but things had started sliding towards an inevitability that was sweeping them both up in its wake. Keeping his grip on her arm he moved his lower body, angling down for his cock to press and rub against the soft flesh between groin and thigh, perilously close yet not enough to do much more than frustrate her if the shifting of her hips was anything to go by. He found that he liked the mix of frustration and lust in her half lidded eyes and compounded  
both with lips that hovered over her own, promising a kiss that she couldn’t quite reach without straining against his grip and the weight of his body, trying anyway only to have him move just far enough away to make it seem worth trying again. The soft valley of flesh was now slippery with her sweat and his own steadily leaking tip, the heat between them almost scalding.

Her frustration eventually gave way with a snarl and he chose this moment to draw back, dropping his head to her shoulder as hips drove forward and took her in one unforgiving thrust, her scream the final catalyst that caused him to bury his teeth into her shoulder growling into that copper stained flesh until she stopped struggling against him, A rotation of his hips turned her shaking into something more sinuous, and he finally tasted her life's blood on his tongue, a taste that found that primal chord within his mind and lit it with a dark red pulse that whispered the same thing from his subconscious over and over again..

_Mine.._

The slick heat of her was almost unbearable, and yet he couldn’t imagine a single thing in this world that would have pulled him away from her now, the claim unofficial and only in his own head but it drove him now and she seemed to be following its rhythm, her eyes shining with both pain and that same physical heat that mirrored his own. When he lifted his head, tongue chasing her blood from his lower lip, both pairs of eyes met and he saw that her mood was lightening again, her urge for him to move translated by the way she undulated beneath him, her hand opening and closing into a restless fist. Bowing his head he brushed the denied kiss across her lips, feeling her chase his mouth and relenting just as he pulled his hips back, thrusting his tongue in after hers, hips mimicking the gesture until he was hilted inside her again, supporting his body on one arm to give her just enough to room to shamelessly meet the next thrust, his dance was timeless and it was in their very blood to follow where it led them. Every push into that velvet grip threw ripples of heat and pleasure through every cell of his body, reaching places no hand could touch and urging him to rock into her harder, faster. The strong legs he had so long ago admired, now wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as she gained what leverage she could, chasing that final edge along with him. Sweat ran over flesh that heaved and flexed with the strain of their pace, limbs tangling, muscle straining to wrench every aching moment of pleasure from them both. The civilised shape of words had left both mouths now, their coupling a wild thing that demanded older sounds, every moan, shout and growl thrown back at them in disembodied echoes that rolled around the cave walls, perhaps they would be remembered in the stone when this time had long passed.

Solas lost time, spacial awareness, everything. His world had narrowed to the unified strain of both bodies, her heat, the sensation of his own pleasure gathering in his gut like a tightening fist and dark blue eyes that seemed as lost as he was. This time their eye contact made something in his chest give way, a burst of emotion that had no name, not one that could ever be uttered with any degree of accuracy. The hand still wrapped tightly about her wrist now unclenched to slip finger through hers, still applying that pinning pressure but now both hands clenched together and both bodies seem to reach the simultaneous conclusion that now was the time to work just that little harder, and the impact of flesh striving for that joint purpose now joined the amatory collective of their voice. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath him and he saw that this quickened slam of her pulse had caused more blood to well up in the fresh imprint of his teeth, mingling with sweat to run in diluted trails over her shoulder and the curve of one breast. Nothing in his brain was left to protest when he bent his body awkwardly and followed that firm swell of flesh with his tongue, chasing the scent of blood to where it was stronger, undiluted, the tip of his tongue now probing the marks he’d left behind. This seemed to be her final undoing, whether it was pain mingling with the building pleasure or simply the act of his tasting her, something that had been strained to breaking point now snapped. 

Her body tightened around him almost possessively, inner walls convulsing while her hips jerked hard towards his own until he gripped one and held her there while he continued to move in short, powerful strokes, fighting the grip of her body all the way and drowning in her accompanying cry, a sound that drew invisible fingers down the length of his spine. He couldn’t have lasted long in that clenching embrace and didn’t even try, his body had almost reached its imperative state and would have gone on without his mind to direct it. The oncoming rush picked him up and dragged his body forward one last time his own voice first stuttering then breaking as he felt his mind giving way to the sensation he’d never been able to replicate in the vast chambers of his memory. He clung to her as though briefly afraid of coming untethered, every muscle in his body clearly defined and trembling with the climax that ripped through his flesh and set every nerve ending to burn in pleasure, for the first time in a long time, he was overwhelmed. Only when those violent pulses began to lessen did his body seem to relax, a strangely numb sort of peace settling over him, interrupted only by the aftershocks that shook them both amidst their embrace.

Their grip on each other seemed to loosen by degrees yet neither seemed inclined to release the other, as conscious thought began to trickle slowly back into place, perhaps they both realised that this perfectly calm moment wouldn’t last, eventually words would find them again, difficult words that might sting and bite. So they remained as they were, limbs intertwined and breath finally slowing, even as the sweat cooled to a chill on their skin and bodies began to demand payment for such ardent activities being played out on a hard stone floor. It had been a long time since such a perfect and blank peace had found him, a mind always occupied by a thousand thoughts at once rarely had time to understand how perfect this warm state of nothing could be. Well not entirely nothing, because her presence was part of that blissful quiet, she was a missing piece that fit seamlessly around him in this moment and that arrogant streak within him decided that she was where she belonged if only for a time.

But it wasn’t.

Reality began to filter in at that thought and with it came the sounds of a world that had continued moving even when time had momentarily stopped for him. Slowly they drew apart, their glances wary as stiff limbs were forced to comply enough for them both to sit up, those quick glances now turning to a stare as both of them tried and failed to find a single word that came close to being appropriate now. What they had done had confusing consequences and neither seemed to know how to even begin to start, they had prepared for every scenario but this one it seemed. He watches her struggle to find the words none the less and he feels almost certain that he is going to pay for his cruel tactic, he couldn’t even argue that he didn’t deserve it, he’d done it to save himself from the desperation of her plea.

Yet again she surprises him, and part of him wondered when he was going to learn to expect this.

He watched her rise up onto her knees and felt her cool palm on the side of his face before she kissed him, the gesture gentle and brief before she rose a little more to press her forehead to his.

“I do not have it in me to do this now. Please, can we….can we just rest, just for a little while. We can’t run from what has to happen, but time can just damn well stand still for us for just a little longer”

 

Once again his mind supplied a hundred reasons why he couldn’t do what she was asking, the chief reason being that he couldn’t stop time and the apex of everything he had worked and sacrificed for was drawing nearer. Once again those reasons were tactfully ignored because reason couldn’t understand how her words wrenched at him. So much had been stolen from her, including a love she deserved and now she begged to keep a temporary grip on a pale imitation of what she should have had. How in the fade was he ever supposed to refuse her, particularly when she spoke of everything he wanted too. He had found her too late, in a time where the momentum of what he started could not be stopped, he had been forced to hurt what he wanted time and again, how could he resist the promise of understanding what loving her should have been like. 

He says nothing, not trusting that he wouldn’t say something that might break this fragile and temporary truce. Instead he helped her to her feet, catching her about the waist when stiff legs refused to cooperate for a moment. She followed him without comment, perhaps understanding his silence all too well, and he guided her up the staircase long ago etched into the rock. His bedchamber was little more than a smaller cave within a cave that looked out over the top of the woodlands, it’s mouth leading to a sheer drop that couldn’t be scaled. She pulled away from him gently, her touch lingering as if to assure him that she didn’t intend to go far, her steps taking her to the edge of that opening where she contemplated the night sky dressed in stars. Seeing her standing there reminded him all too starkly of her plea to him and he almost reached for her in order to drag her back before the idea of taking one more step back might find her. He does not reach out and she turns from the view to look upon the large pile of furs at the other end of the room. By the time he lay down beside her, the momentary thought has given way to a more certain one, of all the ways she might choose her end, taking her own life was beyond her nature.

Her body fits against his as if designed for that very purpose, her cooled skin now warming against his own and it felt utterly natural for his limbs to wind their way around her while she nuzzled against his shoulder as if seeking the desired spot to lay her head. When she finally stilled he counted her slow breaths until they became slower still and the weight of her grows limp with sleep. He remains awake just a little longer, watching her face unadorned by the usual expressions that animated it, wondering who she might have been if she had truly been given the chance to be free, if she had never met him, He purposely lets his mind drift away from that question, the persuasive lure of sleep snaring him properly and dragging him under into the quiet dark.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_It had not been his intention to slip into her dream, perhaps it is simply because her sleeping mind is so close to him now that reaching out and touching the dream was unavoidable. He recognises the forest only because her dreams have taken him here before, the same forest that changed her course in life when she was still a child. The scenery is as well developed as a memory yet the edges of this vision flicker ever so slightly, not a memory but a thought that has visited her often then. He cannot see her but there is a certain sense of wrongness that had not been here before, a hard to define corruption in the air that makes him hesitant to walk further into this place. He cannot not remember the last time he has ever feared to walk the path of a dream before and this thought alone is enough to make him move his feet, pride once more guiding his movements. It is dark again, the moon casting only a weak glow over the clustered trees their leaves moving together in a gathering susurrus that almost seems to become a foreboding whisper. He cannot even begin to guess what thoughts have led her to conjure a place like this from her subconscious, it is a cold, dry place, its colours muted and the very air seems to carry a bitter mood, it is as far removed from her personality as he could imagine._

_A scream splits the air and a flock of ravens burst from the tops of a large band of oak to his left, cawing their displeasure at this sudden disturbance. The sound root’s him to the spot, crystallising his blood to ice and piercing his heart. It is a wounded sound full of grief and fury, both ugly and pure, the implied agony almost palpable, and perhaps it is..for the surroundings are growing darker as if that scream commands that the trees and the grass should display its grief. A dreadful thought now occurs to him and he is moving before it can fully form along with his dread, bare feet flattening the dry grass beneath them, branches and leaves clawing at his face and arms when he refuses to slow down in their presence. There is absolutely nothing he can do to stop the dream’s progress of course, so why did he run towards that awful sound, did he truly want to see her this way?_

_He hears her before he see’s her, her breath caught in wracking sobs, the kind of crying that didn’t allow for dignity, not while it was translating the sheer weight of burning grief. She was a dark shape amongst other dark shapes and that awful sound is his only beacon to her, a beacon he tries to follow until his foot finds something slick and liquid, it’s cool, viscous quality unpleasant. At that moment the canopy of trees seem to part in some silent exhale and the weak moon gives just enough light for him to see and simultaneously wish he was blind._

_She is kneeling among carnage, the charred clearing littered with bodies that are still fresh enough to bleed, her eyes seeming to see nothing but the woman she held in her arms, both of which are whole and unblemished. This was no memory but now he understands why this dream has so much clarity. She had not seen the aftermath of Clan Lavellan’s slaughter, it would have been impossible to reach them in time, even the closest Inquisition scouts had been too late to do more than see to it that the bodies were properly and respectfully taken care of. At the time he’d been grateful that she had escaped that sight, it had been hard on her not to at least try, but the very pragmatic centre of his soul had told him that such a thing would take some of the much needed fight from her. Now he can see that she had escaped nothing, it had followed her, the unknowing haunting her dreams until it became real enough to pose as memory._

_The woman she clung to was almost certainly the clan's keeper, a woman who had frustrated her greatly enough for her to want to leave the embrace of her clan, and yet she still has love enough to mourn the woman after all these years. It is clear that she wants to bear the blame for this scene of slaughter, the whole display is a screaming accusation for a woman who had been too far away leading someone else's war to help. Every man, woman and child is a pointing finger, the crows now returning to add insult to injury as they pick amongst the macabre feast. He stays well beyond the periphery of her vision for there is nothing he can say that would soothe these dreadful thoughts and she would not thank him for invading the sanctuary of her deepest regret._

_Slowly she sets the Keeper’s body down and then freezes when a long rolling growl slips from the cover of the close growing trees, it was a sound that went back to the days when things that walked on two legs huddled in the dark and listened to bigger, hungrier things owning the land. The thing that stalked forward from between the trees seemed to be mere moving shadow until it began to develop form the closer it came, a large four legged beast, its bristling hackles trailing tendrils of shadow that flowed from its back like a heat haze. He felt his throat close up as he watched her stand before the advancing wolf, all six of its crimson eyes seeming to burn with hateful intelligence, now centred on her challenging gesture. It’s muzzle is dripping red and some masochistic part of him draws his eyes to examine the bodies a little closer, a sickened sound escaping him when his theory is confirmed. The elves were feathered with arrows and wore the deep slashes caused by swords, but amongst these injuries he could also see the marks of teeth and ripping jaws._

_Was this truly how she saw him without her love to taint her thoughts?_

_He watches as the shadowy wolf bares its teeth and crouches as if meaning to spring before turning away because he refuses to watch the thing tear her to pieces. In all the time he has known her she has spoken the name Fen’harel with either fondness or sorrow, but never had she given it the shape of a beast. How could she love something that held such a place of horror in her heart, and how could he become so terrifying a figure to her?_

_“He is neither of you”_

_Her soft speech causes his eyes to snap open and he turns to see her still standing where she was, now facing him, the wolf still crouched behind her, though now it seems as though time has been stilled for the creature, frozen just before the building urge to leap finally relented. He doesn’t know how to explain her having noticed him, perhaps his horror at her image of him was strong enough for her to sense him far more strongly than before._

_“He is not the old stone wolf who would always make me feel safe, seeing him has always made me feel like the whole world could be my home, that one's face is always wise. Neither is he the man I love. Despite what that love has cost me, it wears a gentler face than this creature”_

_She jerks her head back at the still wolf and takes a step backwards, her pause not inviting him to speak, though he doesn’t think he could find any words that would help him here. Falling to her knees again she tilts her head to one side and pulls silvered hair over one shoulder to bare the long, curved line of her throat._

_“His is the face of my penance, the price for my failures. My guilt and my sorrow. All the mistakes i made live here, every life i couldn’t save, every man and woman who stood between me and Corypheus is buried here. This is the place where my clan’s blood will never dry, this is the place where my greatest failure becomes my punishment. I wasn't enough to stop you becoming what they all feared you were, i wasn’t enough to turn you from what you must do. He is what i see when you hide behind the mask”_

_He doesn’t want to be here, he does not want to hear this defeated note in her voice when she speaks of him. She does not lash at him with her words as she did before, there is an unmistakable sadness to her voice, but it hurts all the same and he has nobody to blame but himself. Part of him asks if he should care how she should see him, it changed nothing, but it’s a dim voice and its efforts are feeble._

_“Go Solas, let me dream alone, the rest is not for your eyes my love and you can do nothing for me here”_

_The last words are followed by another low growl and he turns away sharply, using every inch of his will to propel him from this place before the sound could reach its violent conclusion. The fear and horror that had seeped into his bones began to disperse the further away he drifted but the disturbing image of the wolf at her throat will likely not dissipate for a long time yet. He carefully guides his conscious further away from her place of dreaming until he is drifting once more, perhaps drifting towards true sleep where he could hide from even his own thoughts much less hers._

_His last true thought is that of the three wolves. Because no matter how she tried to separate them in order for her sanity to survive, there would only ever be one Fen’harel and he would always carry the weight of all those faces._

 

 

 **NOTES**  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

So i think i discovered the number one problem with writing post-Trespasser smut, and that is remembering that your Inquisitor only has the one arm to work with! Once again i ask that you bear in mind that I’m still shaking out the cobwebs when it comes to my literary skills, and writing smut that feels true to Solas (as i see him anyway) requires a lot of patient effort, and even then i can’t say if i have done it justice, though i think i have given it my best shot.

The last flashback came in a random moment of inspiration while i was trying to think how to end this chapter. It has always bugged me that while bioware thought it was real important that i escort some asshat’s lost druffalo back to his farm, they did not think the death of Lavellans clan worth so much as a word, not even from Lavellan herself. I did think about making the scene a memory where Lavellan would actually find her slaughtered clan but then my imagination went and skipped off with my last remaining brain cell and the third face of Fen’Harel was born.

Oh yes, for those of you that recognise it, I know that ‘The bear and the Maiden fair belongs in Game of Thrones, but it popped into my head and is harmless where it is i think.

Thank you to the lovely commenters, and generous givers of the kudos, it does help to know that my writing reaches some of you and it certainly gives me the motivation to continue.


	3. Chapter Three

It had been a long time since he had woken with the warmth of another beside him, an undeniably pleasant sensation that tried to lull his mind back to sleep a place where the world was not yet ready to invade them with the sheer weight of reality. Instead he settled for squinting against the late dawn light, her vague shape becoming sharper as his vision fully woke along with the rest of him. She had rolled free of his arms at some point, her posture curled and defensive which in turn reminded him of the dream he had invaded, such a dismal horror filled thing he would have gladly plucked from her mind if he could. He would be lying if he said that some small part of him hadn’t hoped that she had slipped away in the night, what she had asked of him might have seemed simple given what he was about to do and her chances of survival, but even at his coldest he couldn’t imagine having her actual blood on his hands, the idea repelled him even when some sharper part of him knew that it was the sensible thing to do. He very quickly harried these thoughts away before they could settle and influence his mood for the rest of the morning, whatever else might be happening she had not slipped away like some shameful thing, she was here beside him, a living dream he never thought he’d touch again. 

He wasn’t sure if he should feel shame or some strange sense of pride when he casually began to catalogue the marks he had left behind the previous night, he had never been prone to hurting someone for his pleasure and yet there had been an inescapable sense that the pain he had provided in both imprints of his teeth and bruises from his grip, had tapped into her wild nature rather than deterring her. The memory of her arching against him while his teeth lay their rending claim, slipped between his thoughts like a rogue's dagger, the image clear enough for him to catch a the scent of that faint copper tang. A lazy twitch between his thighs indicated that whether his mind was conflicted or not when it came to her abused flesh, his body had taken a rather more honest stance about the whole thing. 

Propping himself up on one elbow allowed him to lean forward to get a closer look at a mark he had not inflicted, though he wasn’t entirely beyond fault either. The scar sat between her shoulder blade and her spine, and though it was far smaller than some of the others she had accumulated, he was aware that this wound had almost been the one to end her. When the rumour had reached his ears, the Inquisition were still not clear who was behind the assassination attempt, the unfortunate Crow who performed the deed had been cooked within his own leathers well before he could be questioned. He later discovered that the coin behind the Crow had come from some of his own people, none of them knew the true connection between himself and Talitha, but she was the face of the Inquisition and therefore a prime target to strike a blow against them. He had not given the order of course, but he’d always been aware that if the Inquisition pursued him, then any one of the orders he _did_ give could have led to her death.

He was aware that he’d once more herded his own pleasant thoughts towards more worrying territory, it was a bad habit to break after so long apart and so much war played out between himself and the Inquisition. The scar he was looking at was small, likely from a thin stiletto blade, but it had done enough damage to have them worried for a couple of weeks. He had to wonder how she had survived so long as a constant target, had her dreams of a whole world to call home dwindled to the walls of Skyhold? He didn’t know how to answer that question and had little desire to ask it of her, there would be enough poking of sore wounds between them whether they tried to avoid it or not. 

He reached out to touch upon that small scar, it had almost marked the end of her existence and yet he doubted he would even notice much of a change in texture. He had barely grazed a fingertip over its surface when he was suddenly involved in a complicated few seconds involving more limbs than he personally owned, it ended with him on his back, her knees wedged painfully against his upper arms while lightening crackled over her fingertips in marching bands of blue and white, held aloft and aimed at his face in a striking pose. During their time apart he had remembered her best by her wit and kindness, but looking up at her now reminded him exactly how fierce she could be.

She was straddling his chest, a position that might have otherwise been welcome if not for the implications of that raised hand, and if the threat of magic hadn’t been indication enough that her motivations were far from being amorous, then her expression made it very clear. It was the murderous intent in her narrowed eyes that kept him utterly still in the next few seconds, fairly certain he was getting a practical demonstration about how she dealt with life as a constant target. It took only a few seconds for all the fury to drain from her face, replaced just as quickly by a look of abject horror when she seemed to realise where she was, and more importantly, what she had been about to do. The audible electric hum died when she closed her first and yanked it to her chest as if afraid that it might go off on its as she scrambled off him.

“I didn’t mean to...oh creators this is embarrassing...i swear i was asleep and then…” 

She waved her hand erratically as if to illustrate the sudden flurry of activity she’d performed only moments before, and she truly did look embarrassed, like an Orlesian noble woman who had served the wrong wine with dinner. He swallowed down the highly inappropriate urge to laugh at both her current actions and the lunacy of the situation before cautiously reaching out to touch the back of her hand in order to draw her attention while she looked about ready to throw herself into another flurry of apologies and convictions.

“They came for you while you were sleeping didn’t they?”

He had always wondered how any assassin had been able to reach her, the Inquisition valued her greatly and the friendships she had forged had only made that value stronger. Many of them would and did die for her, so how could anybody have been allowed to slip in behind her? Her strange awakening just a few moments before seemed to answer the question without his having to reach for it.

For a moment she looked genuinely surprised that he would know, then she seemed to realise who she was talking to and managed to look exasperated and amused at the same time as she nodded her head. The humour had not found its way to her eyes however and a slight shift from her kneeling form told him she was uncomfortable discussing it. He ignored the discomfort, much as she would have done, her reaction had been volatile and he imagine that if she had not been distracted by where she was, she might well have hurt him or herself. He let the silence draw out between them knowing that she would eventually fill it, his calm gaze resting on her face while she did her best not to look at him, he allowed this for about half a minute before a gentle tug at her hand brought her eyes back to his. 

 

“It’s nothing. I’m just not used to waking up with someone next to me, the last time someone was in my bed they were trying to kill me, they almost succeeded”

She seemed to realise the irony of this statement and the first genuine smirk pulled at her lips grudgingly though she did not elaborate further and Solas saw no need, he could guess the rest even if she had managed to summarise a whole host of complexes in one sentence. She had been fighting for her life for nearly six years and now even her sleep didn’t feel safe, no wonder she had finally reached her breaking point. Most of the men and women that had stood by her were trained for this, Templar's, seekers and spymasters, but she had grown up as a Dalish, untested until she was literally thrown into the midst of battle, what scars she must have had on the inside, unseen until you remembered that she was barely in her thirties yet and already she showed more wear and tear than she should.

Barely 30 years old and ready to die…

The strong wave of negativity, guilt and doubts that had been waiting for his attention since the moment he had woken began to push against the mental barricade he’d put up without even realising it. It was so very easy to see what he planned as right when all he had was the task at hand, but she was still so real to him and it was hard to look at her and not see the consequences of what he had done to her mind, body and spirit. The greater good would always be a justifiable answer for what he considered to be his crimes, but that didn’t leave any less of a bad taste in his mouth. Her hand slipped from his and he meant to turn away, get up and get away from her if just for a moment, because for a few fleeting seconds he hated her, she made him feel more than he should when he had been satisfied with only his drive to do the one thing he had left to do. When her hand settled on his jaw he almost recoiled but stilled when she pressed her forehead to his with a sigh, he had forgotten how well she could read him.

“I suppose there will never again be a conversation between you and I where one or both of us won't stumble on some painful thought or memory, it hardly seems fair given how little time we’ve had together, all those moments we wasted while both of us tried to do the right thing”

The press of her forehead left his to be replaced by lips that were gentle and brief, before fingers became hard and almost cruel, digging into his jaw to lift his head and gain his full attention, the softness of her voice hardening to something with a sharp edge.

“So don’t waste your time or mine wallowing in whether you should feel guilty or sad or angry every time you realize that your actions have had plenty of consequences. If you truly bemoan my fate then you will give me what i want, but until then i have no intention of picking at old wounds. You already spent too long living in the past and look at what it has you doing, do not make me a part of that self destruction”

Her hand loosened then fell away and he watched her stand, face once more smoothing into something more neutral. She was never afraid of him, whole generations of elves had lived in fear of his shadow and now they looked to him with a frightened sort of awe, but she didn’t flinch, not even when his eyes narrowed and his fists curled as his mental diatribe attempted to now form words that might be coherent. She simply raised her chin as if to indicate she was ready for whatever verbal blow he had prepared for her, eyes steady, not defiant or challenging, but neither did they indicate that she would ever back down on her stance.

Living as he had for the last five years had its consequences, shutting down the larger range of his emotions in order to do what needed to be done meant that he was ill practiced when faced with them again. Love, anger, fear and guilt, all of it was erratic and subject to change with just the smallest push. How long had it been since someone had spoken to him like that? Too long, long enough for the anger to spark and flare when she slipped yet another knife into her words, reminding him she had not forgotten her demand, ignoring his previous refusal as though he’d never uttered it. That his every word should be followed was an unspoken rule that had simply happened amongst his agents, to have that suddenly change prompted both the anger and then dismay at how easily the anger found him in the face of someone refusing his word. In his own head this placed him standing a little too closely to those he had banished in the first place. The thought was not a comfortable one and his effort to swallow back that almost automatic anger was quite visible.

The desire to explain in a hundred ways why he could _not_ do what she asked, remained, but with his head clearing he could see the circular argument that would happen if he gave into the temptation. Eventually the matter of her demand would become an immediate point, they both knew how close he was, the debate concerning her continued existence in the world seemed to run right alongside it, close and yet she was still offering reprieve, peace before the inevitable battle of will. Still it felt as though both minds were now split into two pairs, one pair committed to their own goals and determined to see them through no matter what they must tear up in the process, the other pair simply wishing to salvage what they could from so much wasted time. Being in one mind for so long made it difficult for him to handle this split without losing some of his emotional grace, whereas she’d likely had far more practice, though even that wasn’t much of a comforting thought...how had she lived like this?

The self entitled anger was slowly draining, but he had just enough left to stand and cross to where she still stood, snatching up that almost proud tilt of her jaw, still using that small difference in height to let his eyes bore into hers. He could feel her urge to tense being suppressed and this privately gratified that small dark place in his soul.

“I had forgotten what it was like to be tested by you Talitha, you have always had a gift when it came to stealing my composure...and absolutely no sense of self preservation”

His kiss fell upon the smirking curve of her lips, stealing her breath in small sips while that remaining anger dwindled away on the cool wind that seemed to drift through his mind when he touched her. The kiss was as much a truce as it was a mark of affection, neither of them would back down on their own stances, she was too stubborn and he was too proud. Eventually they would have it out because time would only stretch so far, but for now they would table their discussion in favor of taking back just some of what they were owed, whether both of them deserved it or not. In a silence struck only by the occasional bird song, all this deeper meaning fell away and the kiss was simply warmth and growing desire, exacerbated by the quick and elusive touch of her tongue. 

When she stepped back her eyes were bright and truly awake, something sharper but playful hiding in her upturned gaze, it was another thing had almost faded from his memory, but only because it had been too painful to remember. There was still a dull and aching hurt seeing it once more, but it was dim and insubstantial while she radiated with the growing energy that had always seemed to accompany the familiar expression. Already he could see the restless twitch of her fingers, as though she played some invisible beat against her thigh.

“I want to see the forest”

She didn’t offer any further explanation but simply turned and made her way down the staircase, still naked as the day she came into the world, leaving him to watch her descent. He paused only long enough to find pants before following her down into the main cave, it had been a very long time since anybody but himself had been in this place and even though her presence certainly upset the balance of peace he had found here, it felt like she was always meant to be here, as if he had unconsciously picked this place for their final and inevitable meeting. A foolish idea of course but it’s one that lingers when he sees her sitting on the ledge of the pool, pulling familiar fabric from a beaten up leather pack. 

This garment was far simpler than the ostentatious robes she had arrived in, she pulled it over her head and let it drape to her ankles like a poncho, for that was pretty much what it was without the thick belt she now pulled from the pack. He knew the surface of that supple leather well, it had always fit snugly to the line of her hip and waist after so much time spent melding to the shape of her body. He stood in the middle of the staircase and watched her stand to brace the belt between herself and the wall as she worked on the buckles, the whole process more laborious than it once was when she had both hands, and yet he is unsurprised to see that she has adapted, not as quick as she once was perhaps, but certainly possessing a heightened ingenuity when it came to maintaining her independence.

There was a moment when he had to suppress the desire to offer help, this was not pity but an ordinary sense of helpless frustration any might feel when they watched someone struggle with a previously simple action. He knew better of course, she would no more welcome his help than he would welcome hers if the situations were reversed. With the belt finally buckled into place his image of her shifted once more, enough to note that she was still brimming with that building energy, her toes now curling against the stone floor, eyes sliding to the opening of the cave before settling back on him, their sly tilt containing that touch of ‘feral’ he occasionally saw in her.

“What are you up to”

The wide smile she flashed at him was what Varric would have affectionately called a ‘shit eating grin’, a somewhat coarse and yet apt description.

“We’re going for a little run Solas, I’ve seen much of who you are but i don’t think i have ever truly seen you do anything that might actually be called fun, and no...excursions to the fade do not count”

“You wish to...run?”

“Oh come on Solas, when was the last time you really felt your blood running hot while you pushed that body’s limits”

He couldn’t help it, his eyes slid over to the pile of torn and discarded clothing before coming back to rest on her, one brow lifted while his own subtler version of a smirk appeared, There was certainly something to be said for the way she pinched at the bridge of her nose while her cheeks developed a so far unfamiliar flush, it wasn’t often that he could stop her in her tracks quite so successfully and this small victory prompted another low and very male chuckle from the old wolf as he approached her. He didn’t know why she wanted to do this, but he could feel the balance of their truce beginning to even out and her energy goading his own.

“Very well, we shall run”

 

**~~~~oOo~~~**

_“Whatever you need Solas….”_

_It had been foolish to believe that those were the only words she wanted to say while they stood in that sheltered clearing, her face newly bared and his heart nearly breaking as he watched her turn away from him. His reasoning had been as thin and fragile as parchment and he’d known it, but there had simply been no way to tell her that he’d looked her in the eye and for one frightening second saw all the possibilities before him if he would just set aside his duty. Nothing had shaken his conviction like that before, not even the horrors he might be forced to perform had ever deterred him, nor did the notion that he was using them all, using her, it gave him pause but had never faltered his steps before. But she had stood there before him in all her gentle smiling grace and almost changed the outcome of the world again._

_The following week had been strange, her demeanour seemingly the same as it always had been if you ignored the tightness of her smiles and the slightly forced quality of her joy. None of the others seemed to pick up on it, and given the strain of retaking Emprise du Lion this was not surprising, each of them had found a new limit as they smashed through rank after rank of red Templars. Only Varric seemed to get an inkling, his eyes lingering on her face with contemplation before they would settle on Solas for perhaps just a little too long, but if the dwarf had guessed he never said and perhaps it will become another one of those stories he will never tell._

_The only real change was that she had begun to avoid Cole._

_Given the nature of her relationship with the strange spirit, this was perhaps the only real tell that she couldn’t hide. Talitha had taken to Cole far more quickly than the rest of them, his abilities and the reasons behind them prompting an almost nurturing and protective nature from her. She had called him ‘little brother’ and in doing so, cemented the spirit's purpose in this world just that little bit more, but now she seemed to be actively avoiding his company. He knew what she was truly avoiding by putting a distance between her and the spirit and it shamed him to know just how much she must have been holding onto._

_Today she had been forced to bring the boy along however, his skill with locks unavoidably needed while Varric and Sera were busy clearing up the mess down in the quarry with Cassandra. He’d spent most of the day in a constant state of tension, ready to silence the rogue should he attempt to share some insight into the Inquisitors state of mind. He could only imagine how much it might hurt her, but most of all he couldn’t bear to hear it, just looking at her was enough to twist something painfully in his chest. For once Cole had been silent, perhaps understanding far better than either of them gave the spirit credit for._

_They had sheltered in a camp just outside the village , and once again she has slipped away with only the briefest of words, he watches her leave and feels a pang when he knows he cannot follow this time. Instead he waits, and waits...and when all is still within the camp but for the low flicker of the dying fire, he begins to worry. He understands her deeper need for solitude these days but he cannot imagine that she would sleep outside the safety of the camp while groups of red Templars still roamed the outskirts of their broken strongholds looking for a way back in._

_“She isn’t alone”_

_He is long past the time when the sudden appearance of a voice might have made him jump, though he does turn sharply to the spirit now crouching before the embers, the dim red light not penetrating the shadows that thickened beneath the brim of Cole’s irreplaceable hat._

_“What do you mean Cole, i didn’t hear Dorian…”_

_He turns his head towards the tent he was meant to be sharing with the Tevinter, but already he knows that this isn't what Cole means, and the spirit confirms this with a shake of his head as he poked at the embers with a thin stick contemplatively._

_“Can’t shut out the echoes when it’s quiet, she fights because it’s hard to hear them when the blood pounds in her ears”_

_The disquiet settles quickly on him, crawling up his skin to leave a rash of gooseflesh in the wake of Coles quiet and measured words, almost certain that he can hear a hint of reproach in that soft voice. It is beginning to dawn on him that his atrophied social graces may well have led him to be extremely stupid in believing he knew her well enough not to imagine she hasn’t found some outlet._

_“Where is she Cole?”_

_“Cold stone under my feet, treading on memories of the grey….. fenedhis, they smell of old wounds and hate!”_

_He can hear her in Compassion’s words, Cole cannot mimic her voice but he could hear it’s subtle tones and inflections overriding the spirits and he is moving before thought is given the chance to make him pause, old rage quickly threatening to boil over and this time he lets it because he knows he will need it. How could she be so selfishly stupid? He knows where she has gone, but the snow is deep and her tracks have long since been covered by a fresh fall that even now obscured his view and threatens to disorientate him as he kept his eye on the approaching strand of dead and twisted trees, his legs weighed down by the deep and clinging snow. Cole does not follow and he understands that the spirit is wary of what he is about to do, almost as wary as he himself should be, but there is no time to question himself, not when she should have been back hours ago no matter what she was doing. He needed faster feet, better eyes and a mind that wasn’t trying to hold a swell of panic at bay._

_There is no spectacular display, no rolling around while muscle and bone reshaped itself in various agonizing ways, no dying scream transforming into a howl, there is simply the idea of a better shape and then his entire being flowing into that shape, like water filling a bowl. It has been a long time since he’s assumed this shape, the one for which they branded him, molding him into a being of terror and eventually superstition._

_Running is easier now, the world has grown sharper, it’s colours muted but it’s scents are more insistent and he lifts his large head to catch the one that would resonate with pine, lyrium and the nose ruffling scent of her lightening, and once he catches it among the other scents that permeated the forest at night, it becomes the only thing he can smell._

_Perhaps one or two soldiers might wake in the morning with a dream of some great wolf still clinging to them, but he is swift, cunning, and the dark grey of his fur made him a smudged streak among the deep shadows and those that do catch a glimpse can never convince themselves that he was more than a trick of the light. Muscle burned under the onslaught of his speed, blood flooding through arteries to a heart that beat its fists against his chest, his breath coming in rasping pants that rose to the occasional growl whenever a night time predator felt curious enough to approach. He was too light and too fast to be weighed down now, too full of singular purpose to even think of stopping, large paws spraying clouds of snow, his eyes narrowed slashes of colour that burn like the embers he’d left behind._

_The doors to Valeska’s watch had been closed before they had left for the camp, they had planned to return the next day with Blackwall, but now the doors stood open and already his ears twitch at the distant sound of crumbling masonry that rumbled beneath him. Just as before his body seems to understand that this is no longer the appropriate shape and that sensation of flowing from one shell to another takes him again.  
On two legs he approaches the doors and slips inside, his sense of direction guided only by the glow of distant torches further in, along with the unmistakable aroma of corruption which he followed into a large underground room, long forgotten by anybody but the darkspawn if the decaying stonework were anything to go by._

_Not that his eyes lingered long on the stonework, with so much activity going on in the centre of the room. The alpha would have been taller if it were not bent under the weight of numerous wounds, most of them burns that oozed with something dark and foul smelling. It is still able to heft the greathammer in both hands to swing it with a terrible swiftness, the heavy blunt end smacking into rock just as a smaller shape rolled out of the way, flinging a bolt of lightening that did little more than scorch the flesh. She bore her own collection of bruises and cuts, most of which appear to go unnoticed as she scrabbles at her belts while the Hurlock alpha heaved the hammer from the ground again. Her hair is a wild disarray, the white blonde streaked with dirt and clots of something dark, her skin ashen with the dust that had carpeted the stone over the years. He watches her leap aside once again as the hammer comes down, her teeth tugging at a cork that is spat to the side, blue liquid disappearing down her throat as she ducks another swing, throwing the empty vial over her shoulder, it hit’s the ground with a pretty tinkle, a marginally better sound than the brittle crack as she kicked out at the things knee, the heel connecting and the joint shifting to one side with a sickening sound._

_It occurs to him that he has come here to help, not to stand and gawk..and yet he cannot help it because in its own way, this private scene of carnage is beautiful and terrible at the same time, and he knows it’s all over when he feels the building charge of her spell while the alpha crumples to its remaining knee. Several heavy bolts of fire leap from the tip of her staff to slam the Hurlock into the rock face first, stone spitting and bubbling beneath the already charring corpse. But all this is in his peripheral because it is her face he is compelled to look at now, or more accurately the brightly vindictive gleam in her narrowed eyes as she watched flesh turn to tallow and bone to ash until all that remained was another pile of smoking embers. It disturbs him deeply to see that expression, enough for his voice to disrupt her victorious moment._

_“Have you lost your mind?”_

_Even he is somewhat surprised by the breadth of anger in those words, it’s certainly enough to make her tense muscles jump and eyes widen as she whips around to stare at him, and for one awful moment he’s almost certain she doesn’t know who he is. The utter lack of recognition is brief and now her stance relaxes with a long sigh of resignation. He finds that he has little patience for that sigh or for the way she turns her back to begin looting corpses, of which there are enough for him to have to suppress a growl._

_“I do not have it in me to listen to a lecture Solas. I am fine, the darkspawn are not...there isn’t much more to say so please...don’t”_

_It seemed that he had about as much control over his body as he did his voice, his steps muffled by the thick dust as he moved just shy of running, eyes pinned to the spot where her spine moved between the sharp jut of her shoulder blades. His fingers were digging into the flesh of her upper arm as he hauled her to her feet with an impatient tug, gaining the advantage with surprise rather than strength, and one he almost lost when her brain caught up with her momentum and she tried to twist her arm against his grip, forcing him to grasp both shoulders to hold her in place._

_“How could you be so irresponsible, the number of men and women who fight and die for you, and you repay them by courting death, why would you do this?”_

_She isn’t responding and this simply makes him angrier and that's worse because he knows his anger has been born out of guilt, he has done this to her. Breaking her heart had been bad enough, but not telling her why had left her with no target to lash out at, and so she’d suffered in her polite silence until...this._

_“It was not my intention to ever hurt you, but if you persist in risking your life to bury your pain…”_

_He isn’t expecting the mind blast and it takes him off his feet, cutting off his words sharply and bowling him a few yards across the room to drop him into a rolling heap that leaps up, surprise already corrupted into anger, his legs already tensing with the intention of striding back towards her. Only she’s already striding towards him, her eyes blazing with dark blue fire and he can almost swear that he could see strands of static electricity crawling in her hair. For one terrible moment he catches a glimpse of what she could have been like if she’d allowed her morals to finally be compromised in exchange for all the power she’d been offered in the process of this campaign._

_“How dare you liken me to some feckless idiot girl throwing herself at danger, next you’ll have me falling upon my own staff blade..writing your name in my blood as some last fucking macabre tribute!”_

_Her voice is as soft and deadly as a velvet covered hand slipping about a throat and he finds himself actually having to stop himself from taking a step back even when her magic nips and snaps at him like a small dog, the sensations only mildly discomforting but enough of a warning to keep his temper in check just a little longer._

_“What was it you said Solas, take my anger and pain...use it? Well here’s the problem with that philosophy, sooner or later you run out of room to store all that pain...oh yes you hurt me, enough that it still feels like a broken bone lodged where my heart should be, but you needn’t take all the credit”_

_He was starting to get the impression that his usually sharp mind had made something of an error, she certainly seemed to think so, the appeared to all but blaze in words that had likely been a long time coming_

_“I never wanted this. I had one last job to do..just one, spy on some shems and find out whether or not they were going to screw up this world just that little further, after that it was going to be open roads and exploring, my biggest worries would have been staying away from Templars and not stepping in druffalo shit. I would have been free!”_

_She is losing some of the anger but none of the passion in her words, her magic dwindling, hands gesticulating wildly because she can't even begin to put a true scope on the enormity of her feelings into words. He’s not even sure if she’s still speaking to him now or the whole world in general, or maybe just to the sprawl of twisted bodies at their feet._

_“I am the Inquisitor, that has to be the greatest joke in history and yet day after day I’m given decisions that scare the void out of me because almost every one of them has someone’s life in the balance. My family die while I’m prancing about in Val Royeux, i left a good man to die in a terrible place and an ancient monster wants to pull me apart like a child’s doll, and in the midst of all this i am handed power that no man or woman should rightly hold, power that i do not want, and they expect me to weild that power while being brave and wise and kind and ruthless…..and i’m not any of those things, I’m just a bad Dalish who is only one wrong move away from becoming a tyrant in the world's eyes and all i want to do with that power is put it down and back away slowly”_

_While he has always known she had a better grip on herself than most he couldn’t have even begun to guess how much she had been holding back until now. She has always appeared to approach everything with a calm sort of determination, seeing her so unravelled by the weight of her responsibilities has caught him off guard._

_“I’m well aware of what has been sacrificed for me Solas, most nights i go to sleep knowing that i’ll see all their faces, and when i can’t sleep, when all the sorrow and rage and helplessness feels like a fist trying to push it’s way out of my chest, i find something to destroy and for a moment it feels good because nobody's life is hanging in the balance but my own and i have no intention of dying before I put Corypheus in the ground for good”_

_He is forcibly reminded of all they had done that day, the people in the cages, the Templars who had once been good men, now only pawns and playthings for the likes of a ‘choice’ spirit and Samson. She’d almost seemed to sympathise with mistress Poulin and still she had been forced to have the woman taken away in chains because the road that the woman's good intentions paved had let to terrible things. It had been a trying day where humanity had failed to appear anywhere near human and her perusal of violence is suddenly not seeming so selfish but necessary, she hadn’t come here to self flagellate but to let everything out in one violent burst, like draining an infected wound. She has visibly calmed now, and he knows that in a minute or two he might question whether he really had seen her in this temporary loss of control._

_“Inquisitor i…”_

_He’s almost glad when she swings around to interrupt him again because he honestly didn’t even know what he was going to say, were there really words in any language which might make that better?_

_“Solas, you have had your tongue buried so deeply in my mouth you might well have had the chance to lick my tonsils on the way out, i think the forced formalities can stop. Using my title as another way to put even more distance between us is unfair, i have accepted the loss of love, don’t punish me by taking away my friend too”_

_She watches his eyes widen and his lips part in an attempt to reply, he can feel the weight of her polite expectancy and it dries up even the badly formed words on his tongue until he can only stand there, understanding that his intention to berate her has been entirely turned on its head, leaving him foolish and confused. She nods almost sympathetically and grants him a reprieve as she turns and begins picking her way over the littered bodies. He’s fairly sure that this was the moment he was supposed to call her back and give her something, anything would be better than his perplexed silence. That she would still want his friendship after everything hadn’t even occurred to him and he is deeply ashamed to realise that had he thought upon it for longer instead of pushing the thoughts aside in favor of moving on and getting the job done, he might have realised that he should have known her better than that._

_But being her friend is almost as dangerous as being her love, to her as well as him and his mission, and while he wants to call out to her retreating back he doesn’t, because there is nothing left to say that won’t hurt. He let’s her go and even gives her enough time to get a good head start back to the camp, walking together in silence would have been torture. He had been arrogant enough to believe that her broken heart had led her towards feats of stupidity when in reality she was mourning an entire life lost, and though he had never intended any of this, he’d had a hand in taking that life from her._

**~~~oOo~~~**

She had become like water again, but instead of flowing through his hands, this time she was flowing through the trees as though some foresight guided her swift feet, not even attempting to set a pace he could match and it didn’t take long for him to realise that her desire to run was quickly turning into a chase. He had joined her merely to see her gripped by that fierce joy just one more time, to feel the natural euphoria that surrounded her in the moments she was allowed to feel temporarily free. His steps had been causal to begin with, now they kicked up dust and dirt and he could feel a burgeoning sense of elation that he hadn’t felt since he was a much younger man whose blood had once ran hotter than her own. It was a sensation fuelled by the growing burn in his lungs and the sight of her rapidly retreating back as she pushed her speed just that little bit further.

The loss of an arm had made her no less sure footed than she had always been. There had of course been a need to adapt and she showed as much as she leapt over fallen trees, dodged patches of stinging brambles, low tree branches and one very surprised ram, her remaining arm now as well trained as her feet in avoiding and assisting her over obstacles. The very sight of her agility stirred him in ways long forgotten and again he feels as though he is running in the body of his old self, a cocky strutting thing ruled chiefly by a mixture of arrogance, hormones and a distinct competitive streak. That young man had rapidly changed over the long years, weighed down by choice and the responsibility of those choices, but he could feel that younger self filling his skin now, setting his eyes upon the quickly disappearing flex of strong legs which now overrode thoughts of what was to come within the next few days in exchange for thoughts of what was about to occur in the next few minutes.

He ignored the call of his wiser self who told him that there were vastly more important things he should be doing, it was drowned out when he saw the way her muscles bunched when she gripped a tree branch, launching herself up and over a boulder she might have had to swerve around otherwise.

He dismissed the memories of broken hearts and shattered orbs and the weight of what was still left to be done, they were suddenly helpless against the savage moment of hunger that stole them away when he witnessed her streak by another group of thorn bushes, a stray thorn catching her thigh to draw a line of scarlet he knew would smell like copper and lightening.

Every responsibility, every question, every excuse and ounce of his good sense seemed to fall away, as if the wind he created was streaming through his head sweeping away hundreds of years of tired thoughts. Some dim part of him knew that this was only a temporary reprieve, but that thought didn’t stand a chance of being important right now. He watched her throw a slant eyed glance at him over her shoulder before she picked up her speed and suddenly took a sharp turn to her left to disappear into another strand of thicker trees and now he could only see brief glimpses of that silvery hair through the occasional gaps in the leaves.

He felt his adrenaline spike and his cock harden as he truly began to push his body, muscle burning under the onslaught and for a wonder it felt incredibly good, good enough that it isn’t long before she is in his sights again, flitting between tree’s whose low hanging branches might have impaled them if they made one wrong move. Even this sobre thought doesn’t reach him as he kept his eyes on her bared shoulder where the imprints of his teeth were still fresh as brands against her skin. He used her as a guide, following her movements, trusting her steps to be the right ones, the satisfaction of her marked flesh rubbing shoulders with the growing need to run her down, to pin and grip flesh with hands and teeth. 

If she wanted a chase then he would give her a chase, and he would make a gift of this temporary reunion with the young man that he used to be.

It happened without his having to think about it, for once he was utterly focused upon one thing and one thing only, an unfamiliar state of being for a mind that was constantly cluttered. Meanwhile his subconscious and his own sympathetic brand of magic were dutifully providing him with an alternative shape and it is such an obvious choice that he allows himself to be poured into that new and convenient form. Oh how his inner thoughts clamoured and rattled their cages, how they raged and screamed at how stupid and dangerous he was being. What he was doing was utter lunacy, assuming a form both revered and feared across Thedas for the equivalent of flexing his muscles.

He is not the nightmare thing of her dreams despite being twice as big as a normal wolf, his fur a dark gray, not black and certainly not trailing shadows like ink on water. She threw a glance back and he saw not fear but exhilaration in her eyes before she whipped out of sight again, forcing all four of his legs to work together in a dangerous curve that turned them into a clearing of thinner trees already dressed in autumn gold. She was kicking up leaves behind her now, and he raced through their floating descent, distinctly hearing them brush dryly against his fur. He could also hear her laboured breath, she was pushing herself hard enough to begin reaching her limit, her skin flushed and shining with sweat that coated her strong limbs like a fine oil. Her scent is hot and strong, drowning his olfactory nerve, leaking down into the part of his mind that housed ‘instinct’ and firing up all the switches it found there until he could practically taste her on his tongue and every muscle in his body ached to tense and….

He leapt, powerful hind legs bending then pushing him forward those last few feet, an archaic snarl rolling from his throat. Something in his brain had enough sense left for him to change before he actually hit her, his furred bulk once again becoming smooth skin over sleek muscle that barrelled into her side and brought them both tumbling and rolling to the forest floor. They moved amongst a flurry of limbs and drying leaves, hands grasping for purchase on slippery skin, legs trying to gain leverage while the world spun about them in a kaleidoscope of gold, green and white blonde hair. When their rolling struggle finally ran out of momentum he was on her back, knees digging into the back of hers while he held her arm out from her body, wrist pinned and buried amongst the carpet of leaves.

His free hand was already working at the buckles of her thick belt, and once she realised what he was doing she began to pull and twist against his grip on her wrist, her upper body squirming for more leverage, and yet there is no mistake that she still isn’t afraid, not with the heated look she passes him over her shoulder, both malevolent and full of promise at the same time. She struggled for the same reason that she had ran, she knew it would entice him, drawing out this unexpected version of himself before good sense could truly find either of them. For once they were simply reacting to each other, unbound by second and third thoughts, moving only to the tune of instinct and body language.

His hand left her belt long enough to push her hair away from the back of her neck before he leaned in to grip the flesh with his teeth while hips pressed into the taunting shape of her slightly raised ass beneath her robe. A long rolling growl rolled over her skin in a warm flood that first slowed and then ceased her struggling for now, allowing his hand to return to the buckles of her belt, her flesh sliding from between his teeth, much to her agreement it seemed, her soft sigh that of someone who has just slipped into a warm bath.

The belt was yanked free from beneath her body and tossed aside, the tightly cinched fabric around her waist now loosening enough for hands to slip between the cloth and her body, fingers drifting up and past her collarbone to curl over her shoulders and haul her up against him as he rose to his knees. With an arm braced against her chest he pulled the the remaining piece of clothing over her head and he drank in the sound of her gasp when her newly bared backside pressed against against him, forcing a shorter growl from between his teeth as his hips bucked once against the natural crease of her ass.

He felt her brace herself against him, hand pressing behind her into his thigh as she began to get caught up in a momentum of an entirely different nature, spurred on by the slow but firm rut of his clothed erection pressing against her equally firm rear. No time for thought, only reaction, drag the moment out, let it drip down his throat like sweet wine, or until it drowned him. Neither mattered, not when she smelled of green and earth and sex and certainly not when she squirmed against him and turned her blunt fingers into the flesh of his thigh. He drew his tongue along the line of her outer ear, sucking at the tip until she made a small noise at the back of her throat and shivered against the taut line of his body, wiping his mind of anything but the desire to part those cheeks with his hands and watch himself plunge into her again and again.

It's a powerful enough image to cause his confinement to become almost painful but when his hand slips between them it is not to free himself, those elegant fingers instead diverting to the heat between her legs. There is nothing to stop the low groan he breathes against the spot just below her ear when he finds slick warmth and the pleasing tilt of her hips towards his touch, it is a sound she compliments with her own throaty voice when he slips two fingers into her needy cunt, still running on far too much adrenaline to slow down yet, especially not when she mewled and bucked against his moving, twisting fingers, her own blunted fingers feeling sharper as they dug harder into his thigh. He twisted the angle of his hand and in retribution, ground the pad of his thumb in expert circles over that convenient bundle of nerves, making her shriek and finally ending the reign of his one remaining piece of clothing, the sound finding a direct line to where lust met instinct.

Right that very second instinct required him to remove the restriction of cloth and she seemed to agree if the way she twisted the fabric in her hand was anything to go by. Since she was now bracing herself with her grip on him and the strong muscles in her thighs, he risked using his only free hand to unlace himself, pushing cloth over his hips and down to his knees, not letting the process distract him from the twist and press of his fingers. His pants were thrown unceremoniously in the general direction of her clothing and his hand finally left her to join its twin at her hips, pulling her firmly against him as his body dipped to drag the tip of him along her engorged sex.

Instinct almost bid him to simply plunge into her body that very second, but a second idea struck him when he saw the wanton backwards jut of her hips and once it was there it wouldn’t leave until a hand dove into her hair and jerked her head back sharply, his voice gravelled and raw pressed against her ear like a lovers kiss as he used his other hand to angle himself, the enflamed head of his rigid prick now pressing against soft folds.

“If you want it, then take it”

In the stolen tongue of his youth he practically purred every syllable and her reaction was immediate, almost involuntary. Hips jerked back against him and for a blessed moment he felt the very tip of him sink into her heat. When he felt her stiffen against him, for moment he thought he might have gone a little too far in pursuing his old youthful nature, one that had been far bolder than he might of dared had he been thinking with every facet of his mind. But it seemed he had only caused her to capture her breath in her throat, a breath that she released in a long shaking sigh that shivered on the air like the ripples of a well struck musical chord.

Her hand flew up to grip the back of his neck and with no further warning she gave perfectly controlled buck of her hips, enveloping a third of him inside a sudden furnace, practically sucker punching an agonized moan from his lips. It took everything he had not to tighten his hold on her hips and thrust the rest of the way in, what's more she seemed to know it and the rest of her descent was a torturously slow moment of tight heat, her body tense against his own, breath coming in rapid pants as her head tipped back onto his shoulder with a long moan as she finally took everything he had to give. 

Any further thought of stretching her patience for his own amusement was short lived in those first few seconds while she enveloped him like a blessed fever, his mind blissfully blank of anything but sensation and her. He’d chased her down with the intent of unleashing something wild in both of them, something instinctual and uncomplicated by thought, but the moment he was hilted inside her something shifted subtly in both body and mind. It was not the grave overthinking mind of a stylized god who should have known better, nor was it the arrogant exuberance of the youth he had once been, for once in his long life he was just Solas. When he bent his head over her shoulder and she tilted her own to meet his mouth he also understood that she was, at least in this moment, no longer the dangerous temptation that might ruin all, nor was she the reluctant adversary or the painful sin he hadn’t dared to commit. In that moment she was just simply his.

They did not fuck, nor did they precisely make love, the synchronized shifting of bodies more a translation of every word that would never find true articulation in their mouths. When he pulled back enough to leave just the tip of him nestling inside her he felt her tense against his hands and mouth as if she expected something fast and hard, only to have that tension melt against him when he slipped his way back in with all the reverence of a man taking holy communion. The heat between them changed, no longer the scorch of two bodies desperately seeking claim, it tethered their minds together in a way they had never really connected before, becoming a slow and growing burn that they were building between the two of them. 

She seemed to become an extension of his thoughts, moving and tightening around him in a way that fit perfectly with the design of his hands and hips, her voice stroking its way down his spine, the sporadic hitching sighs and trembling moans sounding both exhilarated and faintly fearful, like someone who has been dared to jump from a cliff to the water below. He thrust into her slowly but firmly, chasing her heat with a hard, rolling press of hips and she was always exactly where he needed her to be. Neither of them were passive because this had ceased to be two people moving, they were now two people ensnared by one growing motion that would not be stopped for anything, like a boulder let loose down a steep hill with nothing to halt it as it dragged them along in its wake.

He loved her. It was a strange and complicated love, its moments often stolen and made bittersweet because it never should have happened to him now of all times. It was a brutally unfair love because it was almost tailored to be mourned and regretted most of the time, and only in moments like this, or when he had kissed her, was he every really allowed to feel the potential of its true strength. What they had been doing to each other was cruel and what they did now was crueler still because once truly tasted, they would possess an even stronger reminder of what could have been.

His hands moved over her both fluid and unyielding, not claiming but seeking to play her flesh like an instrument, a light stroke over one tender nipple causing her to tighten around his cock while the faintest graze over that slick bundle of nerves made her hand grasp and claw at the back of his neck. Even the faint pain added no urgency to his movements, nor did it call forth another low growl because something had changed as subtly as the seconds that ticked by. Both Fen’harel and the Inquisitor had temporarily ceased to be, as though neither could exist in this moment of true connection, those names brought complications that would always provide reasons why they couldn’t or shouldn’t. The people that knelt and writhed amidst a carpet of green and gold and brown were the people they were meant to be, the people who belonged within the bonds they had been able to forge, the people they could and should have been if fate were just that little bit less cruel.

The sensation they were building between them quickened and yet there is still no urgency in their movements, only an elevated intensity that had him cupping her face to turn her eyes to his. Those eyes, dark and expressive, he has seen so much in them over the years and too much of it has been pain in one form or another, but now there was only her love, bared as unashamedly as her body and for once there was nothing ready to warn him how dangerous it was for him to be here like this. He watched that love thrash and swim in depths of darkest blue while the thing they built between them and in them began to grow and grow with every thrust up into her, breath becoming jagged while hands cupped and gripped at her breasts not for leverage but for the simple need to hold onto something while that oncoming presence seemed to envelope them both in the point of absolute no return. He saw her eyes widen, felt the quickening of her pulse and clenching grip of her sex, and in the moment when all that building sensation finally took her he could even read her mind because the few thoughts left to her were etched deeply in her face with none of her second thoughts left to hide them. His own climax did not rush through him, it slowly built itself up and up, stretching the boundaries of his flesh until it burst in waves of slow, aching throbs that tore a chorus of ragged sounds from his throat until he buried them into her neck, her own cries almost soundless as if her pleasure had gone beyond the capabilities of any sound a mortal could produce. The collective of emotion and sensation between them was slow but still very violent, it made him tremble against her frame as arms wound around her, the embrace a desperate bid to shun any reality but her in that moment.

What gifts of passion they had been allowed before this had been small and mean, always tainted by shouldn’t and couldn’t, never coming without a price and always leaving a bitter taste among the sweetness. But here and now, for however long it would be allowed to last, she was his, uncomplicated by duty and conscience, unburdened of what she knew and all the more beautiful for it. In that moment he knew that he wanted it all, he wanted to be at her side as she wandered the land, wrapped in one of their long conversations with nothing but the desire for discovery following them. He wanted to lead her through history in dreams, to see her light up more beautifully than the winter palace on a summer evening as she witnessed his most treasured memories. He wanted it all so badly that it became a physical ache and when he saw the very same thing reflected back at him in her features he knew what he had to do.

**~~~oOo~~~**

 

_They wait on the rain sodden hill, feet ceaselessly moving in the thick mud to keep some semblance of warmth between them as they watch her trudge laboriously towards the pedestal and its occupant. It was cold, the sea was rough and every meal in the past two days has been soggy. Still they waited, toes squishing and backsides freezing as she searches for something in her cloak._

_“Why is she still doing that, it’s weird...and creepy, does she think she can bribe the bald headed bastard into not turning us all into demon chum?” Sera was tactless and has absolutely no understanding of the Inquisitors current actions beyond ‘elfy bullshit’, but even she has enough respect to lower her voice to a whisper._

_“It has been two years, perhaps she simply misses him and seeks to pay tribute to better times” Cassandra is likewise sensible enough to lower her voice, this solemn display simply serves to make her sad._

_“Nah, it’s neither of those”_

_Both women turn to look at the dwarf who is now watching the elf place her stone beneath the wolf’s gaze, having the decency to turn away when she reaches up to scratch behind a stone ear. Rain filled the next few seconds of silence before Sera’s impatience broke first._

_“So what **is** it then?”_

_Varric sighs and glances at the crossbow on his back “She simply understands that there are some stories you can’t fight”_

**~~~oOo~~~**

A heavy but warm rain found them as they returned to the cave, both of them carrying their own clothing, neither in the least bit inclined or embarrassed enough to bother with redressing in the sodden garments. They walked together in a silence that wasn’t really true silence, eyes and hands communicating in a thousand ways, still basking in this rare moment of freedom from their own far too reasonable minds. He had seen everything she was and everything she had the potential to be and there was no way to forget that, no way to stop it from influencing him, what was done was done and he was now living with the sweetest of consequences as best he could. She had laughed when the rain came, then she’d dropped her belt and robe in order to kiss him as if he could possibly be the harbinger of this strange change in weather.

Everything seemed so very simple and clear amidst the strange aura that seemed to settle over the both of them, there was love, desire and her, everything else was pale, everything else ceased to matter because he wouldn’t allow it to, the fragile thing between them too rare and precious for anything to touch it, even the smallest of doubts. He was both intoxicated and intimidated by what he felt welling up in him with nothing to stop it, yet she brought a calm down on both of them that only made both those sensations feel safe, and right.

Back in the cave she had abandoned her clothes on the floor and gently tugged his hand towards the stairs, his following her making complete sense, as if the destination might be preordained and perhaps it was. In perfect undisturbed peace they lay beside each other beneath the furs, eye to eye while they spoke in complete silence, nothing lost in the rendering for the lack of words. The bed smelled of rain and sex and the warmth of their sleep, a scent that would stay with him long after, along with the shape of her small contented smile and the way she looked at him as if he were the only thing worth existing.

He pulled her closer and relished in the soft whisper of her skin moving against his own when she curled an arm around his back and he clung to her like driftwood in a fathomless sea. Something new was building between them in those long moments of expressive silence, something large and more frightening than what had taken them out in the woods. It was made up of all the questions they hadn’t dared ask of each other, trying to metamorphosize into a possible future that had been kept unmercifully out of reach for so long.

“I want… 

The words shook and stuttered against her shoulder, his mouth literally fighting him for every syllable, that sense of something building now growing stronger, piercing him deeper. She was shaking, he could feel the flutter of her hand vibrating against his spine while the fate of two potential worlds trembled on his lips.

“I want to run with you, as far and fast as we can. I want to dream at your side and watch you embrace the world”

His heart was beating harder than it has ever had any right to and her shaking had now transformed into silent sobs that tore at his insides, forcing his agony to bleed from his lips in a voice that cracked and slipped between the words.

“So much wasted time and so many hateful words, all i want is to turn my back upon it, to feel more than the weight of my awful duty and to watch you finally be free. I took away your vallaslin and yet i made you more a slave than your markings ever would, i fashioned myself into a monster and yet it has never been enough to burn out what light you left behind”

He pulled her face gently from his shoulder, needing to see everything in that moment, her pain as well as the love, his own features twisting in an almost agonized grimace when he saw the quiet tears, thumbs sweeping them away before he bent to her mouth in a breathless kiss that was hopelessly full of longing and regret. His hands fell away from her face to move over her flesh, not covetous but simply needing more physical proof that she was truly real in this moment of sweet madness.

“You still cause everything to change, you unravel what is simple and you always will. I love you...and i want nothing more right now than to sleep in your arms knowing that tomorrow we will leave this cave, leave the inquisition, leave my mission and never once have to look back upon guilt and duty”

He pushed up on one elbow to hover over her supine form and kissed her again, her mouth fitting to his as if by design, that growing revelation now roaring between their ears in the rushing voice of freedom, the promise of life without regret and love with no boundary and when they parted he could see how absurdly easy it would be to have all that he wanted.

“But i can’t…”

He felt her body jerk against his own, watched her eyes roll almost to the whites with a soft gasp that was heart achingly beautiful. She reached up and clasped the jawbone that hung between them, thin leather biting into his neck as her fingers clenched tighter and tighter until the knuckles finally bled white, just as his own did while his grip around the slim dagger tightened. The blade had once been a simple skinning knife, long and lethally sharp, she would feel shock before she felt pain, her face already rapidly turning pale while her eyes burned more vibrantly than ever before. He saw her lips moving and though he almost couldn’t bear to hear her speak he bent to hear her last words because that was the very least of all the dignities he could give her in this moment.

“I know….i always knew. You will never know peace until you finish what you started”

He pulled back enough to confirm what his ears were telling him, she was smiling. It was pained and trembling around the edges but it still held enough love that he wanted to scream until something in his throat ripped. She released the jawbone to lift her hand and palm one side of his face, fingers cool and still unfailingly gentle, her smile growing fonder even as her body began to shiver.

 

“ Yours were always the saddest eyes i have ever known old wolf,...except when they were wise. Finish it my love, let me...rest”

Her words were becoming strained and liquid and he could feel the warmth of her life coating his hand as she struggled to make her last words heard. He almost couldn’t bear to watch her lips wrestle with that final word and when her gentle plea found it’s way into her eyes he felt himself shatter. With a strangled, inarticulate cry he jerked the knife up that last inch and knew he had pierced her heart when she arched stiffly, her throat working up and down, his hand holding hers to the side of his face as it tried to fall away.

With its damage done he tore the knife away from her body and flung it from him, hauling her body away from the bed to crush against his own, the harsh echo of his grief filling the cave as the final moments of her tragic life slipped away on one last sigh with nobody to hear it but him.

**~~~oOo~~~**

_“Sharp..cold. It feels like icicles should sound. Breath tasting of blood and he is still so sad...so beautiful”_

_Maryden pauses in the act of tightening one of the lute’s strings while the cart rocked back and forth. They had been in the back of the rickety old thing for nearly three days and for two of those days Cole had been even more unusually quiet, his face a mask of concentration as if trying to listen. Now he speaks in words drenched with emotion she’s almost sure aren’t entirely his own. He almost sounds as if his heart is about to break._

_“What are you…”_

_He shakes his head and presses a finger to his lips._

_“She called me little brother and she loved the old wolf, it won't hurt so much now, she won't have to watch”_

**~~~oOo~~~**

He didn’t know how long he remained there with her, by the time he came back to reality the sun was setting and his throat was raw with the grief he had expelled from a body that felt like nothing more than a shell. Her body had grown cold and limp in his arms, her blood half dried over his chest and arms, her eyes now robbed of that fierce intelligence and quiet amusement. He closed them, unable to bear seeing them so empty, not wanting to remember that once more he had seen a tangible salvation in them and that he had yet again let it go. She had always been dangerous because she had always been too easy to love, and it would have always been to easy to see a way out. 

And yet she had been right in her final words. For all that he had clearly seen how life could have been with her, eventually even her love would not stop the tide of what needed to be done, it would have eventually crushed her. Knowing this did not make what he had done any easier, it did not make him feel as though he had spared her or gifted her with what she had wanted, it might have been the kinder and ultimately the only thing he could do no matter how feircly he had fought it, but it had erased her from the world and there could be no way to feel at peace with that.

Sliding an arm under her knees he lifts her as he stands and creators she is so small and light in her death, as if the very weight of her personality were the things that had given her substance. Making his way down the steps was a slow process when all his legs wanted to do is give out from under him, he has lived for hundreds of years and yet he has never felt quite so mortal as he does now, fully infallible and aching with emptiness. Torches of veilfire have already erupted into flame at his descent, and he tried hard not to think of the way her face would seem ethereal when it was bathed in that strange glow of sympathetic magic. He had to shift her in his arms as he stepped over the lip of the pool into the cool water, and if he could only imagine that she is peacefully sleeping for just a little while longer he could finish what needed to be done.

The pyrite still gleams with a dull fire where she left it and it is shifted aside before he can finally set her down, letting her head rest gently on one sculpted stone paw before he began to arrange her limbs, wanting to cry and laugh at the same time because she would have laughed to see this and she would have loved the reverence with which he did it. The leather thong holding the jawbone about his neck was pulled over his head, the ancient bone still sharp in places, sharp enough to draw a brief lined of fire across his palm before he knelt at the stone pedestal, fingers dipping into the palmed ink to carve red words across the stone.

Ar lassa mala revas

The meaning of those words could be twisted and taught to flow in many different directions on an elvhen tongue, but right here the meaning is as simple as is profound, and he hoped desperately that they were true.

You are free

He stands on legs that are steadily growing stronger now and when he wraps her cold fingers tightly about the jawbone he can feel part of himself draining away, dying its own little death as he arranged her final resting place as well as he could. She had been a creature of nature and knowledge, a wild but compassionate woman designed to roam in freedom, yet her life had been governed by duty, circumstance and heartbreak until her only true freedom had been choosing when to die, even varric couldn't have invented a more tragic heroine for one of his stories. She had been the final price he had to pay from the moment he had met her, the one beacon that had to be destroyed in order for him to set things right once and for all.

He looked upon her now, her body almost foetal, her eyes closed against the atrocities he was about to commit and she really did look like she could be sleeping under the stone wolf's gaze. With a final gesture of his hand he watches her skin grow hard and darken, taking on the same shade as the stone that surrounded her. Laid out between the huge paws of the wise old wolf she is both the little girl and the bad Dalish, the woman who saved the world even when she couldn’t live in at she wanted to, and the woman who almost broke a thousand year resolve by simply existing. 

When she is finally preserved in the most respectful way he could imagine for her, he bent to kiss her hardened brow, and under the feel of cold stone he felt the last of something slip away from him.

By the time he backed away from the Dalish woman and her ever present companion, what had remained of Solas had slipped away, and there was something so logically right about that. He could not turn away from his mission, but he could make sure that the hands which ended her world would not belong to the man that she had loved but to that creature that stalked the clearing of her dreams. She had carefully separated his wisdom, pride and rage into singular personas in order to cope with her ill advised love for him, he had left wisdom to watch over her as it always had, while the last of pride remained clutched in her hand, that quiet and roiling rage would be enough to deliver what his people deserved.

He calmly cleaned himself of her blood in the pool, his mind now settling into its new state with no recriminations to disturb it. When he was clean he followed the trail of her blood back up the stairs and took his time dressing, fur, mail and leather draped over his body with the air of someone placing themselves in full battle armour, his hands steady and utterly sure of what they were doing. He had spent so long living in his own head that the lack of mental noise would almost be shocking if the capacity to be shocked were still available to him. He was now as much a piece of stone as she was, with only rage and that singular purpose propelling him forward.

By the time he made his way back down into the lower cave and out into the darkling twilight he was truly the Fen’harel that the Dalish had always feared. With eyes suffused in that deathly glow he was every inch the creature they had wanted him to be in order to have their lives make sense and have meaning. Again this was acceptable to him, it even feels right, as though this was how it should have been. He gives the wolf and its ward one final glance before a single thought causes the stone jaws of the cave's opening to slowly close until it is as faceless as the rest of the mountainside. 

Fen’harel lifted his staff and brought it down on the rock in a gesture as poignant and grave as a hammer fall before he took the first steps as the true dread wolf, the demise of this ghost world now a baleful fire in his eyes.

 

 

END

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, considering my long stretch of writers block, i couldn't have picked a harder viewpoint to write from, Solas' thoughts scare me and take a lot of effort to pin down. That being said i have really enjoyed writing this short piece and I'm already looking forward to starting on a longer story with many more characters, and perhaps some one shots to cleanse the palate along the way.
> 
> I would like to send out a huge heartfelt thank you to all who read this, gave kudos or left a comment, they made continuing this to its end much easier and you are all wonderful people.
> 
> Of course i realise some might hate me for this ending but for me it was really they only way things could end whilst keeping both muses in character, I'm sure others and maybe even bioware would disagree, but the story just flowed in that direction and if i tinker with it anymore it will fall apart.


End file.
